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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026377">Sine-Cosine qua non Intersections</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeryPsycho/pseuds/cheeryPsycho'>cheeryPsycho</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorologiumParadox/pseuds/HorologiumParadox'>HorologiumParadox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the web of wyrd but its got more knots than a boy scouts handbook [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Casual Sex, Denial of Feelings, Dirk is brutal, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, John is a little shit, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Payback, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Roleplay Logs, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Strilondes, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:55:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>138,782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeryPsycho/pseuds/cheeryPsycho, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorologiumParadox/pseuds/HorologiumParadox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At his first party in years and first time out in weeks, Dirk runs into his twin sister’s annoying straight ex and finds out that at some points in time, their curves converge. John and Dirk function in different patterns, but the result of that intersection is within the realm of achievable solutions, if complex.</p><p>A DirkJohn get-together longfic that explores this AU more in-depth. Can be read independently, though. Pretty self-indulgent.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Egbert/Dirk Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the web of wyrd but its got more knots than a boy scouts handbook [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Companion piece of our DaveKat rp fic <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426632/chapters/64381840">Katfishing</a>, with whom it shares AU! There <strike>will</strike> might be more entries, so follow the series if you wanna stay tuned! ;)</p><p>Exists within the same AU (and family) as <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426632/chapters/64381840">Katfishing</a>, but they are nonconcurrent, <b>for now</b>, so you don't need to have read either of them to enjoy the other one, except for punctual references.  Side fics and future entries might very much intersect them, though. ;)</p><p>Takes place roughly <b>one (1) year</b> before the events in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426632/chapters/64381840">Katfishing</a>.</p><p>RP'd on the Homestuck RP Server on Discord.</p><p>HorologiumParadox as Dirk Strider, Jane Crocker, Roxy Lalonde &amp; Jake English<br/>cheeryPsycho as John Egbert, Dave Strider &amp; Rose Lalonde<br/>Both as Jade Harley x)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s Friday night on the 13th day of the month, and everybody knows what that means.</p><p>It means jack fucking shit.</p><p>It might mean something for party animals and edgy teenagers who need an excuse to fill their asses with alcohol to the point they can’t tell a lamp post from a thirty-store building. Are they even aware that they’re only running away from their problems?</p><p>Well, no matter. Everyone is cursed to live their own lives and forge their own future. Or, in more pedestrian terms, ‘to each their own’, which sure as fuck doesn’t apply to the apartment upstairs currently booming music on maximum volume. That is most definitely not just their own business, according to the man currently slumped before his computer sporting an escalating migraine.</p><p>The man’s name is Dirk Strider, and he’s been staring at a wall of code for hours now. His average blink ratio has been standardly deviating around three eyelid flutter per minute, face otherwise completely immobile. He is fucking tired.</p><p>He is deliriously contemplating grabbing some wire cutters and searching for his neighbors’ power box when a notification pops up on his phone. Dirk breathes out a weary sigh and unlocks the device with his fingerprint.</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tipsyGnostalgic has begun messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="roxy">TG: yo dirky</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yo, Roxy.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: u busy 2nite?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Horribly.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: aw :( thats 2 bad</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Did you need something?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: well</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i was gonna invite u 2 a party</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: since we never hang out anymore :/</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Isn’t that a shame.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Well, I suppose it’s only natural we don’t spend as much time together anymore. College is a busy time for students who take it seriously.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: yeah but still</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: we should make like</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: a family traditon</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *tradition</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: and have dinner somewhere every month or soemthin</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *something</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: As long as you can get all four of us to be in town concomitantly, you have my blessing, Rox.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: but thats the hard part!!!! &gt;:(</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Precisely.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: In any case, tempting as your offer may be, I have work to do.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: bluh</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: fine</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: but 1 of these days imma rope u into clubbin w me, d-stri ;D</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: you have 2 ur my big bro</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: also ur the only gay sibling left around</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I see where your heart is.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: oh shush im just kiddin</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i actually like ur company u huge doofus</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: bc i know deep down ur a softie ;*</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Right.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Speaking of brotherly duties, by the way,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Aren’t you supposed to stay away from liquor?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: oh dont worry bout that im not drinkin</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: im on driving duty 2nite</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: That’s even more worrisome.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: dirk!!! &gt;:/</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Is anyone else going with you? Just in case I need to file a missing person report.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: ur an ass</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: yeah jades gonna b there 2</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: were gonna crash at her place afterwards since its closer</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Jade? As in Jade Harley?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: da 1 and onyl</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *only</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I didn’t know you guys were close.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: yeah shes a few years older but she took a credit w me last semester</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: turns out she 2 likes getting turntttt</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I see.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: anyway i dont wanna keep u from ur boring grownup work so imma head out</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: bye dye strye</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Wait, Roxy</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: wassup</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Actually, I think I might go with you.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: oh rly? :D</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yeah. My client has just extended the deadline until next week.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Besides, it has indeed been quite a while since we’ve seen each other. Who knows, you might have even grown into an acceptable height by now.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: &gt;:O</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: ur impossible!!!</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Sorry, sorry. I hope I haven’t worn out my welcome.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: never &lt;3</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: alright imma stop by the store to grab sumthin 4 me sober ass self then ill stop by your place</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: sounds good?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Perfect.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: See you soon, Roxy.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: see ya bro ;*</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tipsyGnostalgic has ceased messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p><p><em>You are fucking ridiculous</em>, a voice spits at him from the inside. It sounds suspiciously like the one his twin sister used when Dirk had subscribed to thirty-seven porn websites in the dark web using the e-mail address of the teacher that humiliated him in front of the whole class, then arranged it so that he had to open it for everyone to see. That would have been enough, he’d hear from Rose later, but he’d gone the extra mile and made his computer freeze on that exact screen until the principal came into the classroom to ask about a complaint Dirk himself had filed earlier. The poor teacher was suspended.</p><p>It’s not like that was an isolated incident. Dirk has a rather extensive record of pettiness on him, culminating in the infamous dream candy frappuccino shitshow extravaganza. There had been an angry mob with <em> pitchforks</em>. It’s his magnum opus and it makes him smile fondly to this day.</p><p>However, after that and some other violent whiplashes he’d suffered, Rose had threatened him into therapy, arguing he was lashing out at other people for an entirely different reason.</p><p>Preposterous, right? It’s fine, he’s got it under control.</p><p>He quit after a few months, but stopped the spiteful strikes. Well, practically stopped.</p><p>Dirk closes the applications and turns off his machine, opening his closet to put together a fresh enough outfit. He hops into the shower fifteen seconds later, scrubbing his hair with urgency so he has more time to dry his hair the way he likes it.</p><p>When Roxy honks downstairs, he’s finishing tying his shoes and slipping on his designer shades. The next second, he’s darting out the door with his keys in hand and his cellphone shoved in the tight space of his back pocket. </p><p>He slides smoothly onto the passenger seat, being greeted by a kiss on the cheek. Roxy is literally the only person on Earth that has the right to do that to him. “Is this Dave’s truck?” Dirk asks, looking back at the open cargo compartment. It’s been a while since they’ve spoken. He makes a mental note to message him sometime next week, since Dave works the weekends.</p><p>“Hell yeah it is,” Roxy beams, patting the steering wheel as she releases the brakes. “I’ve earned his trust, Dirkie. Now the only one that’s left is you,” she winks at him and pulls off the curb.</p><p>“I am not letting you ride my motorcycle,” he clips, smirking at her corresponding groan of defeat.</p><p>“I’m not giving up so easily. I will prove my worth, b-bro,” Roxy smiles, and they fall into easy conversation all the way to the party site.</p><p>It’s a typical college party, with some randos in costume too wasted to give a shit about being the only ones in the ridiculous get-ups, flaring Dirk’s envy of their lack of self-awareness. Dirk is always painfully aware of everything.</p><p>As soon as they step inside, Dirk looks around, scanning the room for any familiar faces. He finds one all too soon, but it’s not the one he wanted to see.</p><p>“Strider,” Jade gives him a once-over in disgust, crossing her arms before him while Roxy shuffles to catch up to them.</p><p>“Harley,” Dirk deadpans back. It seems she hasn’t forgotten about all the stuff that happened between him and her brother.</p><p>That’s fine. Neither has he.</p><p>“Hey Jades, it’s nice to see you! You look bangin’ gorg, as always,” she cracks a grin, and Jade’s expression does a 180 before they hug intensely. How thrilling.</p><p>“RoRo, they’re about to play the song I asked! I think you’re gonna enjoy it, hehe. C’mon, let’s get you something to drink, they made some sober cocktails for the drivers tonight,” Jade rambles to his sister, shoots him a passing glare, then disappears with Roxy into the crowd.</p><p>Well. His goal’s fucking cleared. Now…</p><p>Dirk looks around. If he’s going to be around for a while, he’s going to need to dose himself into a carefully induced stupor, otherwise he’s going to end up getting kicked out. He looks around and finds an ice bucket stocked with beer bottles. Decadent, but handy. Dirk grabs one and looks for the nearest wall free of any youngsters sucking each other’s mouths off to lean back onto.</p><p>I know what you’re going to say, but no, he is not running away from his problems.</p>
<hr/><p>John stares down at his drink disapprovingly. When the rando handling the alcohol offered him a <em>Sex on the Beach,</em> it sounded pretty awesome, he never thought he’d end up holding a big see-through plastic bucket cup filled with a fruity pinkish cocktail. Now he’s suspecting that guy took his prankster’s gambit a few notches down, what a jerk. Whatever, drinks aren’t gay or girly, they’re just drinks. At least it’s so big he’s getting well loaded.</p><p>After a good swig, he looks around the room with a bored expression. This party sucks, the music’s lame, and there’s no one cool around to talk to. He was chatting up Roxy for quite a while, she’s fun at least. She’s easy to talk to and they joke together, the kind of girl that everyone likes and anyone with half a brain should be interested in, she hasn’t even inherited the innate snarkiness omnipresent in the rest of her family members.</p><p>Speaking of which…</p><p>Roxy and he were hanging, nothing much, just chilling like buds, they’d ended up talking about cats in costumes for some stupid reason. <em> He doesn’t know either, </em> ok, he got nervous when she started laughing. And another thing that was making him nervous, was feeling the fixed icy stare of her elder brother, drilling through the back of his head with robotic laser precision, he could tell even through those dumb triangle shades he always wears on his stupid face. Not stupid like ugly, it’s a stupid perfect face. All the Striders have the stupid perfect deadpan face syndrome, it’s not a weird thought.</p><p><em> StriLondes</em>. He means <em> StriLondes</em>.</p><p>Guessing he was pissed at him for <em>hitting it</em> off with his other sister, John had shot him a petulant narrow-eyed stare and a bit of what he would call a scary snarl, but anyone else in the vicinity of his toothy overbite and dorky face would describe as the silliest pouting grouchy growl.</p><p>Ok, so things hadn’t quite worked out with Rose exactly. That was hardly his fault! They just never managed to… be on the same wavelength. It was no biggie, they parted as friends, Rose and he were totally cool. So why would that platinum blond jerkface be so mad at him?! What a dick.</p><p>Even now, long after Jade has pulled Roxy away from him giggling. to leave him abandoned with nothing to do even though she was the one who dragged him here in the first place (thanks <em> a lot</em>, Jade), John can still sense his inflexible pissed off gaze stubbornly follow him around. And now he sees Dirk moving off the wall. Towards him. </p><p>Oh hell, did he hear John call him a jerkface?! No, that’s stupid, he can’t read his mind, even if some of the StriLondes more often than not give you that impression.</p><p><em> Shit</em>, he’s almost up to him. Feigning cool, John tries to make his best, most unpracticed <em> mad dog stare </em> at that swaggering prick. If he wants trouble, <em> he’s gonna get trouble</em>.</p><p> </p><p>…he hopes no one believes the suicide note.</p>
<hr/><p>“You have <em> got </em> to be <em> fucking </em>kidding me.”</p><p>Dirk, after staring around idly and enjoying the music for a while, had looked for his little sister amidst the crowd as to keep her out of trouble. Not that <em> she </em>was the troublemaker out of that duo, but just in case. </p><p>Then he had spotted her beside the dance area (it was far too scattered and improvised to call it a dance <em> floor</em>), talking to a guy. His eyebrow had twitched and Dirk had looked away, between uncomfortable and uneasy. Then, his sharp gaze had snapped back and focused on the increasingly familiar face beside her, until his mental facial regonition fully loaded and his brow furrowed.</p><p>Holding his second beer bottle a tad too tightly, the blond watched as Jake’s cousin and Rose’s obnoxious ex-boyfriend (jesus christ, why the fuck did they date people from the same circle, has no one watched <em> Dark</em>?), John Egbert, fucking <em> giggled </em>next to Roxy. It was so unbelievable, he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away.</p><p>Dirk doesn’t give half a shit about who Roxy chooses to date as long as they aren’t complete assholes, but did that guy have no shame? She’s Rose’s, Dave’s, <em> his </em>little sister…</p><p>From the looks of it, John had noticed. He’d also tried to look defiant and failed. Good.</p><p>He’d watched with petty satisfaction as Jade had wrenched her away from the tool. For a second, John looked almost as pathetic as—</p><p>Let’s not go there. Now, after a few more minutes of pondering whether his energy was worth it, Dirk downs the last of his cheap booze, Dirk sets it down on the counter and crosses the room towards him.</p><p>Dirk leans sideways on the wall, crossing his arms. “You’re John, right?” It’s not really a question. “Can’t get enough of us?”</p>
<hr/><p>John crosses his arms himself, trying to stand tall and puff up, make himself look a little bigger than he is. Because his lean, somewhat petite frame on its best day can’t even pretend to compete with the tall, trim but muscular man practically towering over him. What, does he live in a gym? No, he probably prances around playing nerd ninjas like Dave used to do.</p><p>
  <em> …do not imagine him impaling you with his sword, Egbert. </em>
</p><p>A monumental endeavor for someone like John Egbert, he makes the alcohol-addled decision to try and <em> play it cool</em>.</p><p>“Sup, Bro.” He offers his hand for a fistbump that is not reciprocated, until he is forced to withdraw it after a long ass awkward time. “Fine, aren’t you a bellyacher. I guess I’ll just-” do his vaguest approximation of the fingers-to-the-forehead military salute, apparently.</p><p>“So anyway. Wassup?” yeah, still not working. “Mr. Strider. Dirk. I haven’t seen the other Strider in a while. The Davester. He sure is a slippery bastard.”</p><p>…</p><p>“It’s been a while since I talked to your sister, too. Not the sister you just saw me talking to, cause obviously I was chatting her up good, ahaha.” Oof. “I mean your other sister. R-rose.” That’s a bad thought to put in the stoic asshole in front of him, but he guesses there’s no way that train hasn’t left the station already. “I haven’t seen her, since. You know. Our whole deal. Situation. Heh. But we’re cool. Rose is so cool.” <em>Terrible, in every way.</em></p><p>Dirk shows absolutely no fucking reaction to any of that so far, and John starts wondering if he’s ever gonna move a muscle again. The brunette’s starting to get pissed off, in what has in no way anything to do with the gigantic bathtub of alcohol he’s been chugging down. He puffs angrily, hoping that a bit of the air will reach the immovable man’s face.</p><p>“So, do you just come up to anyone who has a friendly chat with your sister to get up in their face and pretend to intimidate them, or what.” His innocent face twists into a mean-spirited smirk as his blue eyes narrow.</p>
<hr/><p>The more the guy talks, the more inventive the ways Dirk can think of to slowly and painfully bring John to his end get. Though he can see how he and Dave became friends.</p><p>Egbert is <em> still </em>going on about his family. Dirk never stops boggling at people’s ability to eschew objectivity in conversation. In this particular scenario, getting to the point would be beneficial to them both, since as far as he’s been able to observe, none of them are retrieving joyful affectations from this interaction. Damn, does he ever stop talking?</p><p>Oh thank fuck, <em> finally</em>. Dirk grinds his teeth, clenching his jaw. His hands twitch, gripping his arms.</p><p>“No, you’re just lucky. And I don’t have to pretend to intimidate you when you’re holding your rich bitch glass as if it was a life buoy and you were hopelessly drowning in the middle of the wild ocean.” Dirk tilts his head. “Which is a possible, achievable scenario, mind you.”</p>
<hr/><p>What a cocky asshole. </p><p>As much as he acts like a big man (not that he isn’t, is that biceps thicker than his own thigh? What the fuck) John knows by heart that the Striders are mostly talk, and there’s a sensitive weenie usually hiding underneath. </p><p>“Look who’s talking, I’ve seen you nurse that crappy beer for like an hour. Not that I was staring. It’s just I noticed cause beer is so gross, that’s for freshman girls! At least I can handle my liquor like a man.</p><p>Looking the blond right in the eye, or the triangle where his eye is supposed to be, he tips back his gargantuan cup of boozy slush and gulps it all down in a couple seconds. It was <em>way</em> too fucking much and it makes him feel a little sick, but he did it anyway because that felt like <em> a man thing to do </em> at the time. Screw it.</p><p>“You know, you talk big, but I bet I could do more shots down you. Unless y’scared” he challenges unsteadily, dedicating that chiseled prick a toothy grin.</p><p>There’s no way this could go wrong, he’s been guzzling a vat of hooch you could use for water aerobics against the man double his size that has a couple beers in him. <em> John can totally take him</em>, this is a great idea.</p>
<hr/><p>Wow, Dirk cannot fucking believe that John is literally the straight man at a party stereotype down to detail, besides being a shithead. The guy’s barely got facial hair and he’s talking about ‘being a man’, as if that even meant something unambiguously.</p><p>“Oh I am without a shadow of doubt shaking in my boots at your staggering five feet tall anemic ass endurance of alcohol,” Dirk deadpans. He knows better than to cave in to some kid’s weak challenge at a party in which nobody even knows him. “Make sure to drink some water, you don’t want to look as drunk as you are right now when your parents come to pick you up, right? Just be careful not to drown.”</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roxy dancing with Jade at some distance from them. They don’t seem to have realized or minded their interaction so far. Dirk looks back at the little chick that’s been chirping at him for a few minutes. “Anyway, you’ve had your fun, now cut the bullshit. If you stay out of our way, I will stay out of yours,” he straightens himself to his full height, meaning to step away. “That’s a piece of advice, by the way.”</p>
<hr/><p>“C’moooon,” John starts drawling dangerously “have a little fun, haven’t you ever heard of a party? Maybe after a few drinks, that stick will fall out of your tight ass.”</p><p>A bunch of loud jerks were doing shots earlier by the counter, until they left all together presumably to make out and/or puke. Hopefully not at the same time. John grabs a bottle of Southern Comfort left behind, it’s almost full, and a couple of shot glasses. Holding the bottle closer to the elder Strider’s face than is <em>remotely</em> advisable, he swirls it around <em> waggling </em> his eyebrows <em> ‘temptingly’</em>.</p><p>“Y’know, I’m just not jus’ gonna stay away from your sisters because <em> Mr. Big Man Brother </em> says so. Rose is one o’my best friends… Plus Roxy and I are gettin’ to know each other better lately.” He truly has no idea what the hell he means by that, but he thinks he might have just seen a twitch on the blond man’s face. Or he could have just drunk-imagined it.</p><p>“Tell’ya what. If you win at shots,” that’s what you say right? You play shots? “I’ll never hit on any of your sisters again. A‘swear.” Why does it feel like he means that so sincerely?</p><p>Then he makes truly the most dangerous choice all evening. Probably. For now. Night’s young.</p><p><em> Poking the tiger </em>, way too literally. On the shoulder, to be precise.</p><p>“Unless.” <em> Poke</em>.</p><p>“You're.” <em> Poke</em>.</p><p>“CHICKEN!” His last push is hard enough to make the Strider’s shoulder veer slightly.</p><p>That last word was very much officially a yell, and some people close to them are starting to turn and curiously stare.</p>
<hr/><p>Ok, so, here's the thing: Dirk knows.</p><p>Dirk <em> knows </em>with every cell of his brilliant brain that this is a taunt. A juvenile, nay, infantile provocation. It has been designed and executed with the sole purpose of irking him to extensive ends, a goal set by the pitiful, empty mind of his sister's ex-boyfriend, who is annoyingly straight and annoying, which is doubly redundant and alliterative.</p><p>However, what actually gets to Dirk is the intent. This asshole he's just stumbled upon at a party after watching him go for his ex's younger sister and then <em> bragging </em>about it thinks he can get Dirk Strider to turn around and leave with his tail between his hoov-- legs. Tail between legs, like a cowering dog, that's the idiom.</p><p>In his idiotic dare, John has drawn attention to them. Now there are people staring and whispering, some narrowing their eyes at him in faint recollection of his face.</p><p>It has nothing to do with Roxy's honor or whatever, he knows damn well she can fend for herself. Hell, maybe he'll actually save her the effort of swatting away a bothersome fly by doing this, so if this is what it takes to get rid of Egbert, Dirk will give him what he wants.</p><p>Without uttering a single word and while staring dead into John's eyes, Dirk uncrosses his arms, snatches the bottle from John's hand, throws it back and starts downing it all in one go, gaze locked onto the bastard. He can hear a highly unnecessary chant of 'chug, chug, chug' growing louder as more voices join in around them, clearly entertained. Fucking zombies.</p><p>After about a minute, the last drop makes its way down his searing throat. Dirk makes sure to appear completely unfazed as he lowers the empty bottle and holds it out for John. "I win. Now, I hope to never see you again."</p>
<hr/><p>John looks completely astonished, having watched his eternal rival from the last half hour down a fucking quart of liquor without so much as a shudder. Or stopping to breathe. Or blinking. As far as he knows. The brunette is still even holding one of his hands out like he’s gripping an air bottle, and holding the shot glasses in the other.</p><p>Obviously he just got seriously owned by this stoic motherfucker, there’s people even cheering and clapping for him, not that he looks too amused about it. So he must plan the next move carefully, he needs to keep his mind cool, plan how to get back at this asshole, and perform with the most exquisite finesse and cunning against such a worthy adversary, nay, nemesis. It’s a matter of gentlemanly honor, after all.</p><p>So he decides to throw a raging bitchfit in the middle of a crowded party.</p><p>“What the hell is your problem with me, you dick?!!” Now <em> everyone </em>is looking at them, and John couldn’t give a single crap. “Why the FUCK are you riding my ass like that?!!”</p><p>In a further angry fit he throws the shot glasses, they don’t make it far cause his arms are booze-numb, but they cause quite a ruckus, startling a few partygoers and successfully bringing even further attention to them.</p><p>“SO I SLEPT WITH YOUR SISTER!! I’m fucking sorry, ok?! She didn’t like it, I didn’t like it-” Something in Dirk’s face tells him he’s going <em> outrageously </em>far, and it makes him stutter. “I-it was a million years ago, ok?! We’re cool now, we’re friends!! So will you give me a fucking break already?!”</p><p>…</p><p>There’s a deathly silence for a couple seconds. All that can be heard is his ragged panting, and Dirk’s nasal breathing, similar to the noise a bull would make before he’s about to fucking <em> gore </em>you.</p><p>The man doesn’t look like he’s about to be giving away any breaks anytime soon. Or anything better than a punch to the gut, really.</p>
<hr/><p>Out of the many things Dirk is aware of having and that his ex-therapist claimed he had, synesthesia isn’t one of them. Still, when this dumb fucking pissy asshole makes a scene and drags not only <em> him </em> into it, but also <em> Rose </em> , his <em> twin fucking sister</em>, Dirk almost literally sees red. What he’s actually processing in his brain is the realistic vision of John’s blood in his hands.</p><p>His whole body is tense, hard as stone, ready to fling over Egbert, when Dirk hears something.</p><p>“Holy fucking shit…” Someone mumbles under their breath.</p><p>“Oooooh, snap!” Another person slurs.</p><p>“Damn, things getting heated in here.”</p><p>“Wait, is that dude that Strider guy?”</p><p>“Shit, Dick-- Dirk Strider? Holy crap, it really is.”</p><p>“Oof, that poor guy…”</p><p>“Nice knowing you, four eyes!”</p><p>Great. Dirk looks around in the general direction of the spot he’s last seen Roxy with Jade. None of them are there anymore, but it seems there’s a good part of the party that doesn’t give a shit about what’s happening here.</p><p>The last thing he needs is Jake knowing about this. It’s far too humiliating.</p><p>Dirk snaps his head back to the pathetic glasses guy before him and shoves a hand forward to fist the front of his shirt and pull him forward until their noses are almost touching, then grinds out in a low, chipped tone: “You are coming with me. Now.”</p><p>And that is merely a statement, a courtesy of a warning before Dirk releases him, grabs John’s wrist and tugs him forcibly behind him, making way through the crowd toward an adjacent room. How big even is this goddamn house? Who the fuck even lives here?</p><p>The other space is considerably less crowded, but there are still far too many witnesses around. He’s about to turn on his heels and looks for the kitchen of the bathroom or something when his eyes catch a metal railing just outside the window.</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>The window is open and there is someone smoking outside, but as soon as Dirk ducks under the glass pane and yanks John with him, the person gets the message and scrams. The chilly night air almost helps calm him down. Almost.</p><p>He closes the window and turns to John, visibly <em> ravenous</em>, still keeping a bruising grip on the brunette’s wrist. Sadly, the consequences of his actions are catching up to him, in such a way that Dirk’s vision starts to swim. “Tell me, John, do you have a fucking death wish? <em> Is that fucking it? </em>”</p>
<hr/><p><em> Fuck fuck holy shitting fuck</em>. John can’t think, John can barely see, as soon as Strider got hold of his wrist and dragged him along with tremendous force, he felt doomed. How fucking strong is this guy?! It’s starting to seem doubtful that he’s a normal human put on this planet by normal biological means, John muses about whether he’s some kind of super saiyan that fell to Earth on a meteor. Yeah, he’s delirious and basically having to dedicate every bit of what little concentration he has left to not tripping over himself, and keeping his drunken ass upright while he’s being jerked around like a ragdoll by this seething titan. </p><p>The brunette gets dizzier by the second, everything is blurry and everyone just gets out of the way when they come stomping and stumbling through respectively, even though he’s hoping to have a <em> for the love of god, do something and help me </em> look on his face. In more objective reality, he probably just looks fucking smashed.</p><p>He barely registers getting hauled through a window and landing painfully with his back against a railing, thank god it reaches past waist-height or he would have already fallen two stories down into the street. Disoriented, he looks around at the tiny fire escape they’re in, with only a crappy hanging ladder that looks more broken than his basic common sense tonight. No way out, even if his wrist wasn’t caught in the vice-like grip of the man he’s pissed off into a rabid fury.</p><p>It’s fucking dark out here. Dirk’s whole front is in shadows, he looks like the bad guy from an anime, appropriately enough. John backs into a corner and immediately regrets his decision, being now out of the line of sight of anyone passing by the window.</p><p>The big man looms over him, closer and closer, their chests almost touching now. John hazily wonders if he’s about to get torn in half and unceremoniously tossed in the nearby dumpster. It’s now or never, Egbert. Say something to fix whatever’s still fixable in this disaster.</p><p>“<em>You’re the one who backed me into a corner,”</em> the brunette spits through gritted teeth.</p><p>Thank you so fucking much, vodka mouth.</p>
<hr/><p>Dirk doesn’t miss a beat when he notices John curling up into the corner and chases right after him, caging him between his arms with a hand on each corner of the railing. His jaw is clenched so hard that his teeth are audibly grinding against one another. </p><p>“<em>Because you were making a fucking </em> <b> <em>spectacle </em> </b> <em> of yourself, then getting </em> <b> <em>me </em> </b> <em> involved in your hissy theatrics.</em>” Dirk’s voice is low and glaringly restrained, as if holding back his muscles is taking more effort than just using them. “Don’t worry, we can continue our ‘manly’ talk out here,” he spits out the word, even more annoyed at remembering this stupid lanky asshat goes around flaunting his masculinity as if that was worth shit, “where no one will interrupt us. Or do you actually <em> like </em>the fucking audience, Egbert?” Dirk hisses, inches away from his infuriating, panicked face.</p>
<hr/><p>John swallows audibly at the sheer <em> aggression </em>in the Strider’s tone, but huffs stubbornly in response, lifting up his chin. </p><p>Suddenly, he’s hyperaware of the way the other man’s invading physique is on his. Dirk’s muscular arms trapping him in a minuscule space, his broad chest and shoulders, menacing and looming purely with their latent strength, his furious breath, moist and smelling heavily of alcohol in John’s face. His body heat, blazing, radiating into the brunette’s skin. It’s intoxicating and electrifying from pure adrenaline. </p><p>John feels light-headed.</p><p>Embarrassment and anger give him the momentum to shoot a fierce, burning hot look into the other man's eyes.</p><p>“Fuck off, man. Stop standing so close. <em> It’s g-</em>”</p>
<hr/><p>Dirk feels a rush from the fear he can <em> smell </em> himself to be instilling in the man before him. His body buzzes with adrenaline from his poorly controlled rage and the heat of John’s body. “Oh, I am <em> terribly </em> fucking sorry, I didn’t catch what you said just now,” he drawls in a menacing tone, leaning down until his eyes should be visible through his dark glasses. “It’s <em> what</em>, John?”</p>
<hr/><p>"<strong>G</strong></p><p>
  <strong>A</strong>
</p><p><strong>Y!</strong>"</p>
<hr/><p>Ah, yes, there it is. Now it's the full heterosexual pride package. Of course he saw that coming.</p><p>Rage overflows and spills all over as Dirk barks out a sarcastic, dark laugh. "Yeah, that's what I thought."</p><p>Then, he fists a hand in the hair of the back of John's head and yanks down, making him face up. He steps closer and leans down to close the distance and mash their mouths together, body benching John into the frail railing.</p><p>He knows this could technically be framed under sexual assault, but they're both pretty fucking pissed and drunk, so the thought unfortunately completely slips by Dirk's mind in favor of getting the upper hand in this dumb game he doesn't even remember who started.</p>
<hr/><p>A strong gloved hand, fisted in his hair, holding him firmly in place at will. A solid, powerful body, caging and subduing his, grinding. Deep amber eyes, burning hot with anger and want. Dirk’s hungry lips on him. Dirk’s tongue licking his way earnestly in. All of Dirk’s mouth, wanton and devouring. Dirk’s breath, hot and boozy and heaving. His heat, his sweat, his smell, his touch, his groans.</p><p>At this moment, these are the only things that John knows.</p><p>John doesn’t know why the sting of his hair getting pulled leaves him breathless, why that wall of lean muscle pressed tight against him feels like the most delectable confinement, why that heated gaze ignites every single one of the nerves in his body, why there’s desperate and fierce interlocking of their tongues. Why he <em> wants </em> Strider to <em> eat him up</em>.</p><p>Normally he would push back. Reject his approaches. Threaten, yell, punch if needed. Possibly. He’ll never know.</p><p>Because instead his leg hooks around the blond’s pelvis, his hands claw into the back of those broad shoulders, his hips grind him into the older man’s blatant raging erection. John practically sobs into his mouth with need and arousal.</p><p>Tomorrow, he’ll blame it on alcohol and adrenaline.</p><p>Tonight, this is all he’s living for.</p>
<hr/><p>This is not what he had planned. Not at fucking all.</p><p>When Dirk had leaned in to kiss John out of spite, he had not anticipated the asshole actually fucking <em> reciprocating </em>and melting in the blond’s arms. So he had kept going, waiting for the moment John would either snap out of it and punch him or surrender.</p><p>Neither of those scenarios had happened. Oh no, instead, they had just kept going, and going, and <em> going </em>. Going past lips, tongues, teeth, necks, hands, clothes, sphincters, orgasms and almost the railing of the fire escape. Luckily, though, he’d been sober enough to prevent a boneless John from falling over in his afterglow-induced limpness.</p><p>Though Dirk would still remember the anger and the pleasure from that debauched fuck, he had faith his inebriation would be enough to wipe his memory from the particulars of exactly whom he’d shared that mistake with.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dirk remembers everything.</p>
<p>That’s the second thing the blond notices when he wakes up the next day, fortunately in his own bed. The very first one is the soul-searing migraine splitting his head open and wringing him back into consciousness from what he assumes was a short, deep sleep.</p>
<p>He groans into a sitting position. Why do his drunken stupors never come with the desired outcome of shutting off his mind for a few hours? His tolerance is high enough to make those extremely rare, but they still don’t pay off. Dirk makes a mental note to never get wasted again.</p>
<p>Whatever. What an idiotic decision it had been to go out when he’s got enough work to keep himself busy for two whole weeks. Maybe he really should go see someone about his resentment.</p>
<p>Or work. Yeah, that sounds more productive. The blond painstakingly gets up to rummage his bathroom cabinet in search of an aspirin. He takes a tablet with water from the sink and supports himself on the counter as he swallows and waits for the nausea to pass.</p>
<p>His gaze focuses on his image in the mirror. Jesus Christ, he looks like shit. His eye bags look even worse than usual, his hair is disheveled and<em> fucking hell. </em></p>
<p>There’s a hickey on his neck.</p>
<p>Dirk runs a hand down his face. He can only hope John doesn’t remember shit and doesn’t tell a fucking soul, or else he’s a dead man. And, consequently, so is John.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em> Light hurts. </em>
</p>
<p><em> Ow, ow. Ok, no. Everything hurts. </em> Most of John’s body is sore. Before he can identify a specific source though, he feels like hell on a biscuit and has to run to the bathroom.</p>
<p>Stumbling nauseous, erratic and half-blinded down the hallway is the worst kind of torture, he thinks, being hyperdramatic. A vague memory of being dragged around a stranger’s house by the wrist pops up in his head, but before he can concrete that thought he’s dry-heaving over the toilet. He decides to focus on that as if it’ll make seeing the contents of his stomach less likely, some booze from last night and nothing else but bile, probably. He’s not sure. He has no memory of it.</p>
<p>After coughing anemically a few times, his body finally decides it’s not gonna vomit (or<em> is it </em> … ok <em> no it’s not </em>) and he rests his back against the bathtub. It’s not a good idea to move away from this particular location just yet.</p>
<p>Just in time, he wipes a few drops of sweat off his forehead with his forearm, before they have a chance to run down his face. God, <em> he feels like dog shit on a hot asphalt then run over. </em> What the hell happened last night?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Strider’s hands tugging forcibly at the fly of his jeans. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John freezes, startled. His brain eventually rejects the thought though. No. No no no. That didn’t happen. It must have been… a dirty dream, yeah. A dirty fevered drunken dream. <em> Starring his best friend’s scary brother, and also former brother-in-law, in vivid detail. </em></p>
<p>(His whole definition of <em> vivid detail </em> is about to get a major overhaul.)</p>
<p>Ok, he’s not going to throw up, one piece of good news at least, he thinks as he stands up unsteadily. Leaning down over the sink, he splashes some water on his face. Why does the part of his lower back that was just against the bathtub tiles hurt <em> even more </em> now?</p>
<p>Twisting his spine around to face the mirror, he lifts up the back of his shirt, to be rewarded with the sight of a red bar-shaped bruise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Dirk, ramming into him against a fire escape railing like a beast in heat. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John looks up at his own face in the mirror, and it’s like seeing a pale, sweaty shocked ghost. Is that… Was that what-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>John’s fingers in the elder Strider’s hair. </em>
</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>
  <em> Strider hands holding onto John’s hips tight as their bodies writhe together. </em>
</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>
  <em> John’s mouth on Dirk’s strong neck, sucking hard and desperate at the apex of pleasure. </em>
</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>
  <em> Both of them, panting and rolling their hips as Strider grunts and John whines like a b- </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Instinctively, he darts up his hand and pulls on his ratty old blue t-shirt’s neckline, down. Slow.</p>
<p>Right over his collarbone. A violaceous bite mark with a suck bruise in the center.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Dirk Strider, biting hard and groaning against him in agony, thrusting erratically and shuddering while John Egbert claws at his back, at his glutes, at anything he can get ahold of because it hurts so good and he begs not to stop as Dirk twitches and cums in- </em>
</p>
<p>In-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mirror reflects John with a thousand mile stare right around faucet height as he absent-mindedly hooks his thumb at the back of his boxers’ waist, before he freezes again, eyes wide. <em> It’s so hot. Why is it so fucking hot. It’s just his hangover yeah, that’s why he’s hot and sweating and not in ball-deep denial. </em> He needs a shower asap, that’ll help.</p>
<p>Better make it a cold one, though.</p><hr/>
<p>After gazing at his own scornful appearance in the mirror for fuck knows how long, Dirk decides to take a shower to wash off the remnants of yesterday’s stupidity before getting to work. He glances at his digital clock on the bedside after stripping. It’s past 11 a.m., which is not as bad as he’d thought.</p>
<p>When he gets under the stream, there’s a sharp burn on his back and he hisses in surprise. Motherfucker, John’s scratched him all over. How the fuck did he even manage that while being drunk off his mind?</p>
<p>Nowadays, Dirk usually uses sex as a stress-reliever and his partners are on par with that. This time, however, he feels even <em> more </em>tense, if anything. God. The guy graduated engineering school in less than the minimum time and left with a specialization that inspired envy between his peers, but he couldn’t fucking turn around and leave when some annoying kid dared him to get shit-faced at a party. Ridiculous.</p>
<p>With a renewed dose of self-loathing, Dirk brews the darkest coffee in history and sits down with two pieces of toast and a bottle of water before his computer. While the machine boots up, he checks his phone.</p>
<p>Jesus fucking Christ.</p>
<p>There are dozens of messages from several different conversations, distributed among his social apps. The first ones he opens are the ones from Roxy, which comprise the proportional majority of them, asking him where the fuck he’d crammed himself last night, and if he managed to get home safely. He quickly shoots out a reply and an apology, telling her he’s fine, but that he just ended up feeling tired and calling an Ober to go home.</p>
<p>Some messages are from the client he’s currently dealing with, some more are from Dave talking to himself in his chat again, some are from acquaintances and prospect clients, and…</p>
<p>One log catches his attention. Dirk frowns, intrigued, but can’t help the twitch of a smile that flashes through his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has started messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Heya, Dirk!</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I suppose it’s been a while.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I apologize for not keeping in touch, but a grappling company is a delicate matter to deal with, especially when there’s family involved.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I’m sure you understand. :B</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Actually, I’ve got to confess, I didn’t come here to chat. In fact, I’m quite busy, but I’m afraid I have a low resistance to my little brother’s nagging, so I promised him I’d talk to you today.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Would you mind if I gave him your phone number?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: He mentioned you’ve ran into each other at a party recently and forgot to ask something.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: If you’ll allow me, that sure is an unexpected pair! I’m surprised you guys hit it off together, but I can’t say I’m not glad you’ve managed to interact with him in a sane manner, especially after all that went down with your sister.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: How is she, btw? Give her my regards when you next speak to her.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Well, I suppose you’re quite busy too, so let me know if I can hook him up with your number. See you, Strider!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has ceased messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What. The. Fuck.</p>
<p>No. no, no, no, no, this isn’t happening. Hasn’t Dirk scared the living shit out of that guy enough? Does he want <em> more </em> ? Does he want <em> revenge </em>?</p>
<p><em> That</em>, Dirk can get behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has started messaging gutsyGumshoe --</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I’m here. Rose’s fine.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I wouldn’t put it like that what transpired between him and me, but no one walked out of there injured or mentally scarred, so you can rejoice at ease.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: However, I am, in fact, pretty busy.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Can you give me his number instead? I’ll message him when I catch a break from commissions.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Oh hi there!</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I’m glad to hear that.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: And yeah, sure! I’ll send you his contact info below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">GG has sent you <span class="u">ectoBiologists.opus</span></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Thanks.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: By the way, call me when you’re free. We can go grab a drink after you close for the day or something.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: That would be lovely. I will.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Take care, Dirk.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Take care, Jane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has ceased messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk munches on the rest of his toast with more force than necessary and takes a vigorous gulp of his coffee before tapping on John’s contact link.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has started messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: What the fuck do you want with me?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: what do you mean what do I want, jerkface??</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: you're the one who threw yourself at me!!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: ...i didn't really dream that right?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: ok no, that's dumb.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: my whole hungover body hurts.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: did you</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: fuck me??</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dirk already feels a vein popping on his forehead. Fucking heteros.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Is that what you “wanted to ask me”?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Okay, then, I’ll make it short and simple so as to save both of our times, although I assume yours is much more available than mine.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yes.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: And you enjoyed it, if the sounds you made were anything to go by.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: nuh uh!!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i was totally unaware of anything!!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: and i barely even remember any details.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: must have been that shitty drink if anything.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: wait, was there any weird stuff in there?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: did you slip me something??</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Jesus fucking Christ.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Do you also conveniently not remember me chugging down an entire bottle of cheap liquor right in front of you?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Your glass was already dry by then, which was what prompted you to pull me into inebriation as well.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: But whatever, that’s not important.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Listen, Egbert,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I don’t give a crap about what happened. That might not be an everyday occurrence for you, so you’re fucking welcome, but it doesn’t mean shit to me.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Sorry, I’ll dumb it down for you:</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Leave me the fuck alone, don’t tell a fucking soul, and I’ll drop it so we can never speak of this again.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Are we clear?</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>Sitting back on his bed, John is not sure why this douchebag makes him so pissed off. Or why he doesn't feel pissed when remembering last night's... details, just. Strange. Riled up.</p>
<p>
  <em> Because he hates him is why, duh. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="john">EB: you can't just get rid of me that easy!!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: fucking avoidant Striders.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i've had it up to my butt with blond avoidant assholes.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: and you have the nerve to tell ME not to tell ANYONE.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: HAHAHAHA.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: I'M LAUGHING AT YOUR LAMEST OF LAME JOKES.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: as if I would ever tell someone.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: "that insecure jerk Dirk was aaaaaaaall over me last night."</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: "you can now point and laugh at my shit luck."</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: yeah right.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: what if my cousin found out.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>How can someone possibly be so irritating with <em> such little effort </em>? Dirk has no fucking clue nor any desire at all to find out. Really, this is the last thing he needs in his life right now. Or at any moment in time, actually.</p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: You sure have, squeaky toy.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I don’t give a flying fuck whether Jade finds out or not, she can bark all she wants.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Then again, I’m not the one with the frail sexuality here, John.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Now that you’ve got another one of the siblings on your notch post, though, I expect you to lay off of Roxy.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Or else you will indeed be hearing from me again.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span class="john">EB: I DON'T WANT TO BE WITH ROXY YOU OBSESSIVE SON OF A BITCH!!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Woah. John's not really sure where that came from.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="john">EB: she's my friend, and you're the one who went after me like a rabid werewolf for having a CHAT with her.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i don't have a frail sexuality, i'm totally sure of my masculinity.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: you're the one who BEING GAY came after me, even though I'm so obviously not.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: and because i'm more mature and aware than you, I was talking about JAKE, not Jade, you fucking moron.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i meant what if HE found out.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: he's YOUR EX and MY COUSIN.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>The world starts losing focus around Dirk, his breathing coming in more forced, muscles twitching, tell-tale signs he’s getting glaring red tunnel-vision.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: So that’s how this is going to be.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Fine, John. Go on. Tell him.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: But tell him everything.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Tell him how you got rock fucking hard just from me pushing you against the fire escape railing, out in the open.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Tell him that you kept rutting against me with your legs spread like a turkey ready to be stuffed while panting inside my mouth.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Tell him all the times you screamed my name into my ear while I plunged my dick so deep into you that I could see your stomach bulge.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Maybe he’ll even be jealous, who the fuck knows. You’ll be doing me a favor, then.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Now go run to Jake and stop wasting my time. I’m not interested in a re-run of last night’s shitty fuck.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Goodbye, Egbert.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>John's thumbs hover over his phone while he stares at the screen, trembling. Holy. Shit.  That was so fucking informative, but not necessarily in a good way. There's a lump in his throat that refuses to be swallowed while he rereads the wealth of new details Dirk has provided about last night's activities.</p>
<p>He. Hates. Him. So. <em> Much</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="john">EB: holy shit, you suck so much.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: if you pulled your head out of your own ass for two seconds you would be able to catch my drift.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: I WAS NEVER GONNA TELL JAKE, ASSHOLE.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: or anyone, for that matter.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i don't want anyone to know about our shitty half-unconscious encounter!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: so good!!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: same page!!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: what you can be sure of is this:</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: I'M GONNA GET BACK AT YOU DIRK STRIDER, AND IT'LL BE GLORIOUS.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: all of you prankster gambit is gonna be mine, haha!!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: even though yours is probably lame fake ninja gambit!!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: go fuck yourself, you dick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">--ectoBiologist has ceased messaging timaeusTestified--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John logs off fast to have the last word, and throws his phone away in a fit. He's seething mad, shaking from the tension, and. He's not really sure, but he feels it in his stomach, kinda like...</p>
<p>...disappointment?</p><hr/>
<p>Even with the new avalanche of pissy messages, Dirk’s anger subsides slightly. He smirks, knowing full well he’s won this round, and locks the screen when he sees the green status of John’s chat fade to grey. That should teach him. Fucking brat.</p>
<p>That day ends up being quite productive, despite his migraine coming back to haunt him after a few hours. He pumps his stomach full of water to fight back and actually cooks something bland and uncreative later to back up his recovery.</p>
<p>He’s about to go to bed to take a nap, finished with the latest order, when another urgent project comes up and he forgoes sleep altogether. The moment Dirk tears his gaze away from the computer again, early sunlight is filtering in through his windows again. He takes a deep breath and stretches, then stands up to wash his face.</p>
<p>On the way back from the bathroom, he idly remembers it’s been a while since he’s checked his messages. Right, he’s been meaning to call Rose for some days now. The blond snatches up his phone and plops down on the bed for a quick rest.</p><hr/>
<p>John snickers to himself while tenting his fingers, because he’s an infuriating brat even into his twenties.</p>
<p>The scene is set. Envelopes, flyers, crafty supplies, various pranks gizmos and doohickeys, string he still doesn’t have a plan for (but he loves a good classic, like the bucket over the door or the ink in the shower, too bad those probably won’t work this time). What else, what else… The dork rubs his hands together like an evil scheming fucking <em> dork</em>.</p>
<p>Of course he’s gotten all the information he needs for the <em> coup-de-grace</em>, his most malevolent prank yet, to arrive soon at Dirk’s. While that whopper slowly makes its appearance, he has a whole lot of shenanigans to inflate his prankster’s gambit and suck Dirk’s dry. Wait, what?</p>
<p>Nevermind, this is a holiday week, he’s caught up in all his work, and he’s shut down all his plans and himself to the world. His only and one true objective: drive Dirk Strider completely insane. </p>
<p>
  <em> Hahahahahahahahaha!!</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…this will be either the best week of his young life or he’ll end up strangled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rest of the day is uneventful, much to Dirk’s favor. He is not a man who’s fond of impromptu events. No matter what people say, there are no ‘happy’ surprises, because surprises are time-consuming problems.</p>
<p>By the next morning, he’s calmed down almost entirely from the Egbert shitshow from a couple days ago. Dirk is sitting on his cushioned chair before his computer, having slept a few hours a lot of hours ago, sipping on his nth cup of coffee, when he opens his e-mail to several unread newsletter messages.</p>
<p>What the fuck? He never subscribes to anything so he can filter potential jobs from internet bullshit. He opens the latest to come in, just in time for another one to follow.</p>
<p>
  <em> ’Thirty Lessons The Bible Taught Us That You May Have Missed – The Christian Daily’ </em>
</p>
<p>What.</p>
<p>
  <em> ’Influx #3: Liberating Your Inner Tension Through Breathing Exercises is going live in one hour! Stay tuned for more videos by Ways to Cope!’ </em>
</p>
<p>The.</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘Papa Jonhson Fucks Busty Stepdaughter While Wife Cheats On Him, #creampie and More! Check out trending videos on dicksfortitsxxx.com’ </em>
</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>Those three headings managed to sum up the exact main topics Dirk would not, under <em> any </em>circumstance, want to hear more about. Did some site get ahold of his info? No, that’s not how cookies work. Maybe he’s been hacked, or some troll in highschool has ended up fucking with the wrong person.</p>
<p>Well, whatever. Dirk’s irritation meter rises a few ticks, since he has to log onto those ridiculous websites to extract his e-mail address from their nasty claws.</p>
<p>But that’s that, and in less than fifteen minutes he’s back to working.</p>
<p>As he becomes engrossed in work and blogging, Dirk loses track of time. He only checks the time and date when he gets a call (an actual, internetless, <em> voice </em>telephone call).</p>
<p>“Dirk Strider speaking,” he answers in a serious, robotic voice.</p>
<p>“Oh! Hello, is this the doctor?” A raspy voice replies on the other end. The blond frowns.</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon?”</p>
<p>“Oh, where are my manners! I’m sorry, we get a tad impatient with old age,” The woman continues, making no effort in elucidating the motive for her call. “You know how it is, we grow shorter and balder, the body doesn’t work like it used to…”</p>
<p>“I see, but I think you’ve got the w--”</p>
<p>“And now my daughter is moving away, so I’m a little concerned. Of course, I’m happy for her, but it’s so hard to watch your children go…” Her voice is getting alarmingly nostalgic, which makes some red flags fly around Dirk’s head.</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am, it sure is, but how did you get this--”</p>
<p>“I have four children, you see, three boys and one girl.” This can’t be fucking happening. Dirk pinches his nose. “I love them all so much, but sometimes I worry, you know, a mother’s heart never rests. The youngest, you see, I don’t know what we did wrong, he’s…”</p>
<p>The way she trails off makes Dirk <em> infuriatingly </em>aware of what she means, and he finally snaps. “Yeah, I’m sure that must be fucking terrible, lady. Listen, why are you calling me?”</p>
<p>She seems taken aback by the shift in his tone. “Oh, I… saw your ad, is that how it’s called nowadays? The little square advertised in the newspaper, but now it’s all ‘on the line’, right? My son taught me all about it, he’s really into these fancy gadgets--”</p>
<p>“<em>Madam</em>. How did you get this number?”</p>
<p>“Now, no need to be rude. I saw your ad about free online consultations. There are a few new dark spots on my skin, only twenty or thirty, some of them are a little difficult to see because they’re right in the little creases of skin, but I can lift my leg if you need to see--”</p>
<p>Dirk hangs up.</p>
<p>This is John’s doing.</p>
<p>He’s suspected it since the e-mail subscriptions, but wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now he’s <em> vividly </em>certain of it.</p>
<p>The blond pulls up a new tab on the browser and looks for the ad. Sure enough, he finds it. It’s a free ad, spawning in health blogs and church groups on Facebook, with his info copied from his commission blog info. Fucking hell, doesn’t he have <em> anything </em>better to do?</p>
<p>After some reporting and prodding, though, Dirk manages to take it down. His wrath meter rises another few inches, bubbling dangerously.</p>
<p>A few more projects get commissioned in that very same week, suddenly cramming his schedule. He was hoping to work on a personal experimental trinket during the weekend, but his clients seem to have other plans for him. No matter, more cash means more freedom, cheers to capitalism.</p>
<p>Before he knows it, it’s Friday again. He realizes it when he goes to take out the trash and realizes he’s missed the time for the garbage truck to take it. Oh well, rotting in the dumpster for the weekend it is. On his way back, he checks for mail and is surprised to indeed find some.</p>
<p>Dirk takes a quick glance over the envelopes and realizes two of them are Jake’s. God dammit. It’s been ages since they've split and his shit still comes in.</p>
<p>Fuck, he’s not in the mood to talk to him, but it’s better to just get it over with, he supposes. He unblocks Jake’s number and sends him the message with the least amount of thinking he can manage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has started messaging golgothasTerror --</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Jake, your mail got delivered to my place again. Come and get it if you want it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sees Jake is online and stares at the screen in expectation. Then, realizing how dumb that is, Dirk puts the phone down, unlocked, and shuffles through the letters again.</p>
<p>Wait. One of them is for himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="jake">GT: Oh thank you for collecting them dirk!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: I will stop by in the next few days to pick them up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He puts the other envelopes down and almost drops them on the floor. Shit, he must be more tired than he thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="jake">GT: By the way, i was not aware that you and john were pals!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: I guess janes genes passed onto him the ability to tame striders, it would seem.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: And please do not take that seriously. You know i hold no grudges against you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It appears to be from the electric company, but the paper doesn’t seem to want to fucking tear, this is so stupid, why doesn’t this thing open already? Without thinking it through, Dirk sinks his teeth into the edge of the envelope and yanks, and the paper <em> finally </em>gives in--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="jake">GT: Oh bollocks! I almost forgot!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: He told me you chaps had a mighty bad scuffle one of these days and he wanted to send you an apology card so i sent him your address.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A queer party-ton of fucking <em> glitter </em>rains down on him, getting in his mouth, on his hair, clothes, desk, keyboard, everything, forever. Dirk’s breathing stops.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="jake">GT: You dont mind do you?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s it. It’s over. Today is the day Dirk Strider becomes a murderer.</p>
<p>The blond is clenching his hands so hard that his palms start to bleed from the nails tearing into the skin. He manages to pry them open to type briefly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: No.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I don’t mind at all.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: In fact, I’d like to send him a thank you note. Would you be so kind as to inform me of his address, Jake?</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Oh there you are!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Sure can do dirk! I do appreciate gestures of courtesy after all.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: I will send you by ways of the map app.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jake does, and Dirk doesn’t bother with whatever other dumb reply that airhead types out anymore. Oooooh no, the man has only one goal in mind right now, his world pulsating in bright red <em> rage </em>as he stomps out of his apartment, slamming doors and emanating a murderous aura everywhere he goes. In his wrath, he’s forgotten his shades back home, so he’s left to glare ahead with his amber irises burning in such a deep shade of orange that it’s almost red, like a flame.</p>
<p>John’s house is relatively close, so he strides over and bangs incessantly on the door until the man opens it. Once he does, Dirk charges ahead, backing John up into his own house, and kicks the door closed before grabbing the asshole’s shirt with both fists and slamming him against the wall.</p>
<p>He leans into John’s face, teeth bared and clenched, eyes wide with anger, hair disheveled and voice menacing: “You spoke to <em> Jake </em>?”</p><hr/>
<p>John paces around the house, clicking idly on his computer without much interest, visiting the fridge a hundred times but barely ever grabbing anything, sitting in front of the TV to simply let it drone on. In reality, this has been a pretty fucking boring week.</p>
<p>Countless times he's tried to imagine Strider's reactions, his annoyance at the bible studies newsletters and an inbox full of lady porn (lol), the constant calls becoming unbearable... And of course the masterpiece: the Ult Rainbow Glitter Explodifier 41300™, that doozy had probably arrived by now. John chuckles to himself thinking of that ass cleaning up sparkles from everything for the rest of his life.</p>
<p>...it is kinda hollow without seeing anything happen, though. He's getting antsy, tapping his fingers on a knee suffering from restless leg syndrome, body all keyed up and tense, wishing he could just take a peek at the effect he's having. Little does he know how brutally his passive-aggressive fairy godmother is about to make that come true.</p>
<p>The answer to his unwise prayers comes soon in the form of deafening frenzied pounding on his front door. John puts down his lemonade on the kitchen counter and, with a spark of interest in his blue eyes, walks towards the noise.</p>
<p>It's like someone gave a sledgehammer to a furious rhino on ten tons of pixie sticks. The volume becomes almost unbearable by the time he's close enough to open the door.</p>
<p>Almost as soon as he turns the knob, Dirk Strider breaks in like a stampede. There's barely time to react before he's slammed the door shut, lifted John practically off his feet and thrust him against the wall so forcefully it knocks the air out of his lungs.</p>
<p>Dirk couldn't look more rabid if he was literally foaming at the mouth. His orange gaze feels like it could burn through metal and the brunette can feel him trembling with rage where the Strider's gripping him.</p>
<p>As he recovers from the slam, John looks right into Dirk's uncovered eyes with a strangely serene expression, scoffing at his question. "Yeah, I asked Jake for your address and that was it. Who cares. Is that really why you came?" He shoots him a toothy smirk.</p>
<p>John's still not clear on why he isn't terrified, or feels a sudden surge of energy growing in his gut, or doesn't object to being pushed against a wall. It parallels the last time, but today he's stone cold sober, and <em> he doesn't give a fuck</em>. </p>
<p>"Sorry if you've had a bad week, Dirk. You should do something with that anger, some kinda management or <em> release</em>." He's been in this man's arms before, and he's perfectly aware of how much fire he's playing with right now. And <em> still</em>. He reaches over to his shoulder to brush some flecks of glitter off his shirt. "Looks like you got something on you."</p>
<p>John holds his gaze as he observes the Strider's eyes widen even further with a cocky grin.</p>
<p>
  <em> Strangled it is. </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk’s eyes briefly shift to John’s hand on his shoulder and he has to take a monumental fucking breath not to crush the asshole’s thoracic box right then and there. His grip does tighten, though, if even possible.</p>
<p>The idea of there being parts of himself and of his life that he can’t control is maddening to Dirk. It’s a part of himself that he hates, along with all the others.</p>
<p>He refuses to rely on external help for whatever it is he needs to get in check, including, but not limited to, chemicals and drugs, legal or not, which makes for some evidently unhealthy habits.</p>
<p>This part of him, however, is not that apparent. What people see of him in general is a much more collected outward presentation, a deadpan sort of personality that leaves his interlocutors with a detached feeling of inferiority or irrelevance.</p>
<p>But broaching the topic of his siblings and friends seems to trigger a certain part of his brain a lot closer to his heart, wherever the fuck should that mean. Dirk knows this and hides it as if it’s illegal contraband at the US borders.</p>
<p>During the past couple weeks, John has managed to throw in at least five different flavors of that into the boiling pot of Dirk’s frail temper. What the blond still can’t quite figure out (to fan the flames of his rage even further) is <em> why</em>.</p>
<p>Is he still hung up about their ridiculous fuck at the party? Or is it because Dirk took a stab at his glass sexuality? Either way, it is a fucking <em> nuisance </em>and a goddamn waste of time, so now he’s pissed out of his motherfucking mind.</p>
<p>The fact that John seems perfectly calm and that he still has the <em> nerve </em>to play dumb isn’t helping assuage the blond’s mood.</p>
<p>“John,” Dirk spits, “I haven’t got a goddamn fucking <em> clue </em> as to why you would feel entitled to stick your nose into my life, but you’re gonna cut it out right the fuck away. This shit’s gone on long enough, way fucking past the ideal span of time, which was <em> null </em> from the very fucking <em> start </em> and anyone with half a shitty, decadent brain cell could understand that, a category <em> you </em> clearly don’t belong in. So, I’m gonna spell it out for that putrid jumble of soggy noodles you call a brain,” he bares his teeth as he hisses every word: "<em>Leave me the </em> <b> <em>fuck </em> </b> <em> alone and </em> <b> <em>get lost</em></b>.”</p><hr/>
<p>John pouts in displeasure like a petulant child. <em> Figures</em>. Nothing’s easy with this guy.</p>
<p>“<em>O r   w h a t </em>.” his voice drips with mockery. There’s a warm twinkle of amusement in his deep blue eyes as his grin widens even further.</p>
<p>The body language, the smug taunting smirk, the leers. The message is clear. <em> How are you gonna deal with something you can’t control?  </em>John’s body tingles in both excitement and apprehension where Dirk's hands are pressing him hard and flush against the wall.</p>
<p>“What are you gonna do to me, Dirk?”</p><hr/>
<p>Amidst his acidic fury, Dirk is suddenly hit with realization.</p>
<p>This is exactly what the bastard <em> wants</em>.</p>
<p>He’s not only pushing to see how far he can go, John <em> wants </em>this. This is the desired outcome, for some unholy fucking reason. Dirk is almost taken aback, but he’s too fucking ravenous to be surprised.</p>
<p>On one hand, he doesn’t want to give John the satisfaction of having things gone his way. On the other, Dirk has three miserable lives’ worth of anger in him at the moment and turning around to go sulk back at his house while giving the shitface an erroneous sense of victory sounds even worse.</p>
<p>So, since Dirk hates himself even more than he hates Egbert, he lets go of the guy’s shirt in favor of yanking both of his arms above his head, pinning them to the door, and benching him against it as he lunges forward and kisses him ferociously.</p>
<p>Goddamn genes in this family.</p><hr/>
<p>A breathy, low-toned <em> fuck </em> leaves John’s lips as soon as he’s pegged down with pure brute force, he has just long enough before his mouth is caught fiercely by Dirk’s and you better believe he groans mirthfully into that kiss. The time to wonder if anything’s wrong with him for enjoying this so fucking much is <em> anytime but now. </em></p>
<p>The blond’s angry passion is so overwhelming, so intoxicating, John’s head is swimming from lack of breath and pheromones. Jerking deliciously and uselessly in the Strider’s immovable grip, he vaguely wishes he would take them both into the bedroom and fuck his brains out til the morning comes. But…</p>
<p>Unable to use his hands (otherwise he would already be scratching, pulling and groping) he raises his leg to grind his knee and thigh against Dirk’s crotch, biting down on his bottom lip during a particularly juicy kiss to reinforce his point. The blond’s body responds in kind, getting closer and louder and more frantic. John sighs, delighted.</p>
<p>Against the door is fine. It’s <em> perfectly fucking fine</em>.</p><hr/>
<p>God, he hates John Egbert so fucking much.</p>
<p>Dirk hates him for goading him into doing this and <em> enjoying </em> it. What the fuck is he even doing with a brat that’s his best friend’s <em> actual fucking brother </em>?</p>
<p>Whatever, youth is fickle, he’ll get tired of it soon enough and stop pestering Dirk.</p>
<p>For a guy who claims to be straight, John sure seems to know what he wants, though. There’s a scrawny thigh stimulating his dick through too many layers of clothing and Dirk huffs into the kiss in disbelief.</p>
<p>After a while, he pulls back. “I can’t fucking believe you. You pulled all that childish shit so I’d fuck you again? That’s pretty damn pathetic, Egbert.” When John squirms, Dirk stiffens the muscles in his body, securing his grip on the boy’s freedom of movement. “I wasn’t aware you wanted attention that badly, kid. I’m sorry your mommy left you unattended, but I’m not a fucking nanny,” he drawls venomously, voice mocking and sharp.</p><hr/>
<p>“Don’t feel so special, dick. I just wanted to get back at you and make you stark raving mad again. It was fun the first time.” His toothy overbitten grin only gets ampler as his eyes narrow. “Did it work?”</p>
<p>“Besides, you’re the one who overpowered me.” he fake-complains, with fake as hell pouty lips, and he looks Dirk up and down. “Twice.”</p>
<p>“<em>And you enjoyed it, if the sounds you made were anything to go by.</em>”</p>
<p>John ruts his thigh tighter against him for emphasis.</p>
<p>“Not to mention that steel hard bulge.”</p><hr/>
<p>Does this guy ever shut the fuck up? Yeah, no, definitely not.</p>
<p>There’s something about John’s eyes, face, voice, smile, <em> self </em> that makes Dirk wants to tear him apart, wreck him and most absurdly, <em> fuck </em>him into oblivion.</p>
<p>“I’m not the one claiming to be straight while rutting against some guy’s dick like a bitch in heat.” To prove his point, Dirk rolls his hips forward, pressing them over the strain at the front of the other man’s pants.</p>
<p>“However,” the taller man shifts his hold, clasping one hand firmly around both of John’s crossed wrists to free his other one, “I’m glad we’re on the same page regarding who’s in power here.”</p>
<p>Then, Dirk wraps a hand around John’s neck and tightens his grip, using it to help pin the man to the door as he leans forward to bite into his lower lip.</p><hr/>
<p>“Are we really gonna have a sexual orientation brainy talk right now? Is that what you’re really craving?” He lets out a small moan when the blond presses their crotches together, and John angles his hips slightly to rub their erections together as a way to make his point, among other reasons.</p>
<p>“Look who’s the bitch in heat” he snorts.</p>
<p>Then Dirk’s powerful hand wraps around his neck tight, and John bangs the back of his head against the wooden door in sheer thrill. He can’t move, he can barely take air in and it’s <em> just the right amount of breathing</em>. Dizzy and high on endorphins, his eyes close as he gasps weakly a couple times, until the Strider’s mouth finds his again to <em> bite</em>. John takes the chance to run the very tip of his tongue over the other man’s upper lip.</p>
<p>“Big man huh,” he strains breathlessly when they part momentarily, “you like being in full control? Are you gonna dominate me?”</p>
<p>The blue stare shot into burning orange eyes is pure sex.</p><hr/>
<p>Jesus, hearing that kind of question out loud makes Dirk cringe. Sounds like a fucking scene from <em> Fifty Shades of Gray</em>, a movie he hates on as many levels as it’s possible to criticize a film.</p>
<p>“You’re right, I <em> don’t </em>want to talk to you,” he retorts, a new flare of annoyance making him curl his fingers a little more on John’s neck.</p>
<p>With John’s pupils dilated like two endless pits in the middle of the deep blue ocean, though, Dirk is pretty much sure the bastard’s into this. Fine, then, he can let off some steam too. He knows the drill all too well.</p>
<p>The blond allows John to catch his breath for a few seconds before squeezing again and prying open his mouth with his tongue. He breaks in and swallows every ragged pant the man huffs into his mouth, feeling his body grow more impatient with the freshly arrived feeling of arousal blending in with the buzzing anger.</p><hr/>
<p>John can feel Dirk’s torrid anger with every squeeze of gloved fingers around his neck, every thrust of the man’s muscular body against his, every aggressive bite of his lips and lap of his tongue. It’s<em> nauseatingly good</em>.</p>
<p>Every breath he’s allowed he takes, his vision starting to swim and blur, not wanting to end this exchange by blacking out. Would be no fun to be unconscious for this.</p>
<p>“You sure can run your mouth yourself. If you hate it so much, then <em> shut me the fuck up</em>.”</p>
<p>As he once more is treated with Dirk’s mouth, devouring his tongue and breathing every one of his gasps, John hooks his legs over the Strider’s hips one at a time until he’s completely off his feet, deliciously trapped between the blond’s robust body and the wall, grinding down on him with neediness.</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk clicks his tongue at John’s dare, yet another he knows he’s going to give into. His mind is being alarmingly wiped out by lust and hate, to the point his body moves before he even registers it.</p>
<p>Letting go of both of the man’s hands and his neck, the blond sinks his fingers into the flesh of his ass, pulling his hips flush against his own with a hiss of pleasure. The strain and the friction is starting to get irritatingly unbearable, so he steps away from the door, bringing John with him as he dives in to claim his mouth again.</p>
<p>“Where,” he pants, voice husky and low, “the fuck,” he sucks on his lip until he’s sure it’s bruised, “is your bedroom.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Long, explicit chapter ahead! ;) Enjoy!</p><p>Trigger warnings for this chapter include: <b>dubcon</b> (very light), <b>violence</b> (also very light) and some <b>verbal abuse</b>, easily within the realms of consensual angry sex. Additionally, <b>signs of past physical abuse</b>.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Desperately hot, John laps, bites and moans on any part of Dirk he can get access to. As soon as he lets go of his hands he clings to him like he’ll drown if he lets go, digging his fingers into his toned back, clawing at his neck and fisting his hands into his blonde hair.</p><p>A loud groan of delight comes unabashed when he feels dexterous fingers kneading his ass, already drooling over all the nasty things this vicious man has in store for it. Both their erections are positively throbbing against each other and it’s getting intolerable and he’s burning up and he needs it and he wants it NOW.</p><p>Reluctantly, he untangles from his mouth to hiss. “Upstairs to the left, and <em> hurry the fuck up</em>.”</p>
<hr/><p>This little shit is all over him and still has the fucking audacity to claim not to be into it. It’s so fucking infuriating, Dirk feels like screaming.</p><p>Even more so when the brat decides to fucking <em> command </em>him to rush it.</p><p>Dirk stops by the foot of the stairs and slams John against the wall, knocking the air out of him. His eyes are alight with magmatic spite when he snarls: “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Egbert, or I swear I’ll fuck you raw right on these stairs until you cry for help.”</p>
<hr/><p>Shit. Getting manhandled by this beast of man, slammed against walls, choked by his hand, treated with such hostility, shouldn’t make John get such an unreasonable amount of heat coiling in his groin. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.</p><p>“Fine!!” he speaks right against his snarling lips. “The staircase, the bed, on the fucking roof, whatever makes you angrier, asshole.” He grins devilishly, then dives to bite and suck at his neck as hard as he can manage, practically purring with arousal.</p>
<hr/><p>Ah, so he’s finally admitted it. Good.</p><p>Hissing at the teeth on his neck, Dirk pries John off of his waist and shoves him on the steps of the stairs to fall on his ass a few inches higher than ground level. Taking the opening the man leaves as he catches his body with his arms, the blond steps closer, his hips at the line of John’s head.</p><p>“Whatever makes me angrier, huh? I don’t think you’re ready for ‘angrier’, piss pants,” he growls, then fists a gloved hand on John’s hair and tugs his head back, bringing it closer to his crotch. </p><p>With his free hand, Dirk unhooks the button of his pants and slides down his zipper with practiced ease. Meanwhile, he lifts a leg to prod apart John’s legs and press his foot to his clothed cock, feeling it rock hard under his shoe.</p><p>“You know what to do. Move.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> …is he really ready to go along with this? </em>
</p><p>That demanding firm hand yanks him from the hair until his face is almost flush to rock hard cock, twitching like it’s gonna explode out of those black jeans.</p><p>
  <em> …who is he fucking kidding, he most definitely fucking is. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Still. </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Angry dick.</em> </b>
</p><p>Hoping it won’t be too obvious, he covers the distance slowly  until his lips are almost touching that big bulge so fucking ready for him with its fly already open. He can’t help but <em> inhale</em>. </p><p>The sudden foot at his crotch makes him gasp, both stimulating his frankly painfully hard erection and stinging from the intense grinding pressure. It hurts. <em> So good</em>. It only fuels him.</p><p>“Do whatever you want with me, I’m not sucking your nasty dick, you fucker.” He shoots Dirk a defiant blue-eyed look up over his glasses with a cocky, toothy, come-and-get-me smirk.</p>
<hr/><p>Yet another move he’s expecting. John’s starting to get predictable, which settles Dirk’s mind at a more comfortable place. He reaches inside his boxers, tugging them down slightly, and pulls out his hard-on, standing full and flushed right before John’s face. The blond sees the look on his face, it’s so obvious he’s only playing hard to get.</p><p>His free hand comes up to grip the man’s jaw and shove a thumb inside his mouth, forcing it open. Dirk is staring down his nose at him, daring him to do something stupid.</p><p>“I wasn’t fucking asking.”</p><p>Then he thrusts his dick into John’s mouth.</p>
<hr/><p>He barely gets a second to lap at the tip of that thumb suggestively, before something larger comes along and then there's decisions to make.</p><p>Give the man what he asks, or antagonize Dirk Strider until you drive him to the edge and he just<em> takes what he wants. </em></p><p>Easy choice.</p><p>Still, John just got the biggest cock he’s ever seen partially shoved into his mouth. He can’t just <em> do nothing</em>.</p><p>Seriously, it’s so thick he feels like his jaw might unhinge to accommodate that monstrosity. It’s fat, rock hard, with throbbing veins and it tastes so salty and the more he looks at it the more he thinks he might go insane if he doesn’t get to feel every last bit of it inside his body. </p><p>His first instinct is to bite down, but it might not sit well and it seems almost a shame, really. He’s not about to hand out any free favors however so he takes Dirk’s shaft in his hand gently, as to not apply any extra friction if he can avoid it. His fingers, though admittedly on the smaller side, can barely reach to curl around it. It’s fucking glorious and just looking down at it going in between his lips sets more than his face on fire. It takes incredible discipline, of which John isn’t exactly full of, to not hum in tasty satisfaction.</p><p>Tentatively, he starts licking soft and slow, excruciatingly so, tracing circles around the plump flushed head, sucking it in only slightly deeper, just enough to fill his mouth with Dirk’s flavor and scrape his teeth lightly against the length on his way back up. Then he pops it out of his mouth momentarily to dip down and run his tongue from the glans down, lazy and teasing, all the way down to his balls while his free hand shoots up to tangle in his short, darker blond pubes. </p><p>His blue eyes keep darting back up to meet the molten orange gaze observing his every movement closely.</p>
<hr/><p>Compared to the blaring state of Dirk's horny rage, John's ministrations feel a lot like trying to put out a fire with a leaking glass of water. John knows this, Dirk knows this, the tacky fucking wallpaper knows this.</p><p>Which is why it fuels his hate even further.</p><p>John's buck teeth graze his shaft and Dirk narrows his eyes. "Watch it, dipshit."</p><p>It's not a bad start, but the blond is far past the point of relishing in foreplay. His cock is in sync with his mind in his impatience, so Dirk presses his thumb onto John's tongue.</p><p>"Quit fucking around, Egbert," he clips, tugging on John's head. The foot on the man's crotch pushes harder, rubbing against the hardness in his pants. He's so hard from licking Dirk's dick, it's almost pitiful. "I'll do you a single fucking favor and have you know that the more you suck, the less it'll hurt for you. This is about all the lubrication you'll get, unless you were so desperate for me that you actually prepared."</p><p>As if to remind the guy of what he's talking about, Dirk pushes his hips forward, admiring the view of his erection smearing precum on John's cheek. Some sick part of him wants to photograph this and post it where all of his friends can see it.</p>
<hr/><p>John groans at the further pressure at his crotch, making sure not to emote too much. Trying. It’s rough.</p><p>“So you’re doing me a favor, right-” he punctuates every sentence with a lick to the slit of the blond’s dick. </p><p>“Like you’re not dying to fuck me.” <em> Lick</em>.</p><p>“Like you’re not the one who started attacking my mouth again.” <em> Lick</em>.</p><p>“Grinding on me against the walls.” <em> Lick</em>.</p><p>“Carrying me back to bed in a hurry.” <em> Lick</em>.</p><p>“Stopping not even ten feet in cause it’s too far and deciding to just drop your pants on the stairs.” <em> Lick</em>.</p><p>“Not gonna lie, I appreciate the eagerness.” <em> Lick</em>.</p><p>“Whatever’s happening to me right now, you got it ten times worse.”</p><p>Suddenly he plunges down the massive shaft down his throat, swallowing as much as humanly possible, until his gag reflex is about to give out, then he pulls back with a choked noise, biting down a bit firmer on his length out of spite, then pulling it out with a thread of spit and precum hanging from his tongue. <em> Once should do it</em>.</p><p>John leans back on the stairs resting on one elbow casually, keeping his other hand around Dirk, fisting him lazily while making firm eye contact.</p><p>“<em> Hypocrite</em>.”</p>
<hr/><p>“<em> Fuck! </em>” Dirk hisses, his whole body reacting to the assault on his dick. When he recovers and glares at the bastard’s cheeky expression, his patience just disappears down the drain.</p><p>The next second, he’s mounting John’s chest, pinning his arms harshly against the hard steps. Out of everyone he’s ever met in his life, this asshole has <em> got </em> to take the prize of most <em> insufferable </em> dipshit to have crossed his path. Dirk can’t remember the last time he’s been this angry, to the point of barely caring about keeping his cool.</p><p>No, scratch that: not caring <em> at all</em>.</p><p>The blond twists his fingers in John’s hair, gripping his head tightly, and uses the other hand to force his mouth open before shoving his cock as far as it’ll go down the man’s throat.</p><p>He pulls back, “Shut,” then slams back in, “the,” another thrust, “fuck”, the head punches the back of John’s throat, “<em> up</em>,” Dirk growls ferociously, yanking John’s head forward and holding him there to choke on his girth.</p>
<hr/><p>Here’s what you do in this tight a squeeze of a situation:</p><p><em> Nothing</em>.</p><p>Because there’s a man double his weight straddling his chest, pinning him down and ramming his jumbo size dick down into his mouth, <em> down his throat</em>, and it’s as brutal and asphyxiating as it is <em> delicious</em>. Dirk fucks his face furiously with eyes alight with anger and frustration, and it should never under the guise of any kind of logic be so satisfying, but it <em> most definitely fucking is</em>. His girth stretches his pharynx, probably his fucking <em> esophagus </em>painfully over and over, it’s so raw and primal, the way this man has gone completely feral over him.</p><p>All John can do is breathe when the blond’s erection lets him (not a single thrust has made it fully out of his mouth) and possibly try not to gag, throw up and die from having his windpipe obstructed. Relaxing your throat around this massive endeavor is so difficult, especially since it’s the first ti- <em> the only time </em> the brunette has tried, and much to his chagrin he starts choking and coughing every now and then around the rock-hard shaft.</p><p><em> Shit</em>. It hurts in the back of his throat, and he can’t breathe, but he never wants to let on and he does his best to shoot the man breeding his piehole desperately his best look of <em> this is how riled up I’m getting you, this is how your resistance dies, this is your ultimate hopeless moment, not mine. </em></p>
<hr/><p>It’s not the best setting and definitely not a good position, but the high Dirk feels from absolutely fucking abusing this annoying brat’s mouth to make him shut up is ridiculous. He coordinates the movement of his hands and hips to ram his rock hard rod into the pit of John’s windpipes, breathing heavy through his nose at the tightness around it.</p><p>The blond gets distracted by the sight of John’s lips stretched around his shaft and being shoved against his crotch, so when he meets the vivid blue eyes again, he’s zapped with a new bolt of irritation.</p><p>The guy has the <em> nerve </em>to try and look defiant even while the whole lower part of his face is dripping with saliva and precum, his jaw is stretched as wide as it can go, his skin is flushed from the exertion of attempting to breathe and swallow Dirk’s meaty dick at the same time, his brows are creased heavily and his gaze is glossy from the tears beading at the corners of his eyes.</p><p>Un-fucking-believable.</p><p>When the hacking and gagging start to get to be too much, the blond pulls John’s head flush against his hips once more, watching the way one tear streams down his cheek at last. He wipes it with his thumb and finally lets go of him, raising the finger to his mouth and making a show out of licking it.</p><p>Dirk doesn’t give him time for John’s babbling trap to start acting out again. He gets to his feet and hauls him up by the back of his collar, then drags him up the stairs, leaving the man to scramble after him so as to not have his ass hammered by each step. When he finds the door, he pushes it open and shoves John towards the bed, stalking right after him.</p>
<hr/><p>No matter how much he can feel that massive piece of meat bruising his throat, choking him to tears, destroying the last remnants of his dignity and delectably making his face this man’s private fuckhole… his train of thought severely derails and falls off a cliff at that point. But one thing he’s sure of, getting to watch Dirk panting and heaving as he thrusts into him to the hilt is the <em> perfect reward</em>.</p><p>Just as he tries to lap at his underside, achieving only to get his tongue painfully pushed against his teeth by hard rod, and as he wonders with a thrill if the Strider will shoot a load of cum right into his stomach, he suddenly withdraws. It is almost as much of a relief as it is a disappointment. <em> Almost</em>.</p><p>Next thing he knows he’s being yanked up the stairs, stumbling to follow, chucked unceremoniously on his bed as his brain screams <em> HELL FUCKING YES</em>, and he struggles to twist around just in time to see the blond lunging towards him, throwing all his body weight on him, trapping him in a sandwich of mattress and sizzling hot man as his brain still chants <em> oh shit please yes yes YES~ </em></p><p>John wants to see every single detail of this. He wants to see Dirk fucking <em> destroy him</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dirk will take whatever second he can get in silence to work John up to the point of no longer being </span>
  <em>
    <span>able </span>
  </em>
  <span>to talk. He climbs right on top of him as soon as his back hits the mattress and dives down to kiss him aggressively, pulling back with John's lower lip between his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond sits back on the brunette's thighs, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He doesn't go all the way, though, leaving the fabric bundled up on John's elbows, his head in the middle, so that Dirk can scoot down and pull off the man's pants without, hopefully, too much trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he's rid of it and John's thirsty cock is free for him to take, Dirk settles between his legs, sitting back on his own heels, and squeezes his erection, giving it some rough strokes. His gaze snaps up again to John's face, piercing and famished. "Still want to play the victim, Egbert?"</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>John sighs in despair as he barely gets a couple seconds of Dirk’s mouth tongue-fucking his, although the blond doesn’t miss the opportunity to leave another delicious bruise on his already plenty sore lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly his head is trapped in stupid t-shirt, making him rationally think</span>
  <em>
    <span> I shitting hate clothes why do they even exist</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but as he fights with the demonic piece of clothing he feels himself stripped bare from the waist down and a tough calloused hand grabbing his tortured dick, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he frees his head just in time to see the Strider looming over him with hungry eyes for half a second before his gaze snaps down to where his throbbing erection is getting beautifully manhandled.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit shit shit he’s so hard it fucking hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he doesn’t want to reply to that question, there’s no answer that won’t result in sadistic levels of retaliation, he feels light-headed and like he might just cum in that hand right now and he’s past the point of not swerving off the road of one-upsmanship and into a desperation tree, he just whines helplessly nearly melting to putty in Dirk’s hands and, with a look that he hopes will only contain a hint of agony, he simply asks:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell do you want to hear, Strider?!”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dirk’s lips twitch ever so briefly towards a smirk, but he keeps a straight face as he tilts his head, not breaking eye contact, while his hand keeps slowly and mercilessly stroking John’s dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now this is more like it. To dismantle this brat into a moaning, desperate mess is unbelievably satisfying. It feels like Dirk is proving him wrong, though he doesn’t really know about </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s not teaching a lesson, either, because they’re both getting off on this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then why the fuck is he banging this guy? Is he that desperate? Are they both just blowing off steam, then? He doesn’t want to be some straight guy’s pet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Admission.” Dirk’s voice is categorical. “Ideally, begging, but I’ll settle for telling me what you want me to do to you, and expect screaming at the very least.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Apparently, even this annoyingly captivating ninja asshole leaves himself open to strikes every now and then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Should have fucking stayed sitting on my thighs, cocksucker.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>John practically leaps into his lap, throwing himself with such force he almost manages to push Dirk and himself off the foot of the bed, his dick gets a painful tug from the sudden lunge and he can’t manage to muster one single fuck to give. Throwing his arms around Dirk’s neck like a vice and clamping his thighs around the other man’s waist, the brunette attacks his mouth with unbridled lust and exasperation, jumping into it so violently their teeth can be heard clacking against each other’s, then lapping, moaning, biting, panting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. You</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He hisses between wet tongue noises and gasps, right against the blond’s lips. “If your cock isn’t in me in the next ten seconds I swear to god I’m gonna rip your stupid hair off.” His hands are already fisted tight into blond hair for emphasis, pulling the older man’s head back for better access to mouth and neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s not even aware of how much he’s already lost, there’s no game in his mind, he’s not playing, there’s nothing. His mind is completely wiped out except for flaming anger, anguished desire, and Dirk, Dirk, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dirk</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dirk barely catches himself on the mattress from this bludgeoning fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>idiot </span>
  </em>
  <span>goddamn flinging himself onto the blond. This is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not what he’d planned. But well, he supposes at least John’s complied, somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he kisses back in tandem, Dirk tastes a vague saltiness from his own precum, mixed in with a little blood from their unhinged teeth and tongues. His breathing is failing to regulate itself, making him sweat in exertion from kissing back this thirsty, smart-mouthed kid. God, Rose would give him so much shit for this. And she will, as soon as she mysteriously finds out about them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirk can’t say that John’s eagerness doesn’t get him going, though. He twines his fingers in the hair of the brunette’s nape and yanks it back, exposing his bruised neck. Then, he ducks forward and bites down </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the man’s skin, over his windpipe, until he’s satisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, feeling his own erection growing impatient, Dirk tilts his body back down onto the mattress, taking John with him and almost knocking heads in the process. His pupils are dilated, amber burning in lust around them like two pits of lava as he stares down into ocean-blue. He clutches John’s arms and yanks them to the side. “Then get the fuck off of me so I can get on with it, asshole.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When Dirk bites his neck ferociously, his teeth digging into the boy’s flesh with a sting, John can’t help but let out a loud yelp in agony, in utter delight at this man marking him as his, </span>
  <em>
    <span>claiming him</span>
  </em>
  <span> as his fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>property</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, uh…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no chance for him to finish that thought, because he finds himself pushed back onto the mattress as the blond topples them, almost breaking John’s nose in the process. As he recuperates for a second, scrunching up his face, he catches sight of Dirk above him, staring him down with drunken eyes. He looks so fucking… </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. John wonders if he’s mirroring that gaze back up at him. And doesn’t care in the least if the answer is yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he’s pushed aside so the Strider can start undressing, the brunette shamelessly runs his hands down those muscles as Dirk leans back up, stroking down his stomach, his hips, his erection, his thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John won’t admit it openly, not even to himself, but he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>worship </span>
  </em>
  <span>that mouth-watering body forever.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Great, John’s hands have found something to do other than making his life hard. As the younger man </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>gives him a fucking break, Dirk sits up to grab the hem of his tank top and pull it up over his head and discard it on the floor in one fluid motion, revealing his toned torso with freckles scattered across wherever they have managed to pop up and…scars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are scars of every kind. Slashes, scrapes, smaller cuts, burns, piercing wounds, with smooth lines, with ragged edges, whatever, you name it, he has it somewhere on his body, courtesy of another fucking sociopath. It’s not pretty to look at, to the point he’s considered commissioning an encompassing tattoo to cover them up, but that would probably make him even more pissed. The skin is already fucked in many places anyway, he doesn’t want to prod them further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he or John can dwell on it, though, he kicks off his shoes and sits back to slide off his pants and underwear, joining the other man in full nudity. The first thing he does after that is diving back in to press his body flush against John’s, rubbing their erections together and groaning low at the feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses the man for a few more seconds, but soon pulls back and flips John over, adjusting his legs so that his hips are lifted at the height of Dirk’s own. The blond leans over him, feeling his cock slide up the underside of the brunette’s, and, bracing himself on one arm on the mattress, holds out three fingers in front of John’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suck. If you bite, I’ll make sure you never chew on anything again.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s hard to imagine so many scars on a single person until you’ve seen them first-hand. For a moment, John considers that some of them might be freckles that just look strange to him (though a fair amount of them will never even get the benefit of the doubt) but he’s still wearing his glasses, his vision of Dirk’s body is perfectly clear, and that sculpted and otherwise flawless physique is marred to an outrageously unreasonable degree. Not that even one of those could ever be acceptable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John thinks of Dave, his best friend, of Dirk, of the smaller scars that he’s always noticed on the Striders’ perfect faces, of the very incomplete stories he knows about their psycho asshole father. A pang of something painful hits his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But… he hates him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dirk stands completely nude before him, like an exquisite gay version of a Greek God, his breath catches in his throat, adding to his dumbfounded. So he stays silent. He’s fucking perfect anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After relishing in their friction and the kiss he’s moaning into, however, there’s nothing that can stop him from whining like a brat when Dirk turns him over. And orders him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>suck his fingers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yet he does, first with some tentative licks and then sucking earnestly, taking them in his mouth as far they’ll go (god knows it’s not close to the biggest thing that’s been in there today), and flicking his tongue at them hoping to please the blond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dirk’s hands land on his hips, dig into his asscheeks, it’s so fucking rewarding, but nothing like feeling his dexterous fingers start penetrating him, scissoring, that earns the Strider a high-pitched whimper into the mattress. John’s mind is buzzing so hard he can’t even mentally swear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine. Maybe it’s enough to just get to feel his touch after all.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>For once, they seem to agree on cutting the bullshit and cooperating to get to their objective: orgasming through raw, animalistic fucking, apparently. John almost helpfully sucks on Dirk’s fingers, giving them a nice coat of saliva, so the blond responds by preparing him as best as he can with the half-assed lubrication they improvised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although judging by his whines, John doesn’t really mind that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Dirk is fairly certain he won’t literally tear the man’s anus apart, he throws his own spit into the mix by slicking his own dick with it too. Chafing isn’t a desired outcome regardless of what role you play out in this kind of scenario.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both impatient, though, so Dirk deems it good enough and lines himself up with John’s entrance. One gloved hand (he’d have to throw those in the wash, or maybe incinerate them) sinks on the curve of the brunette’s hips to steady him, the other helps the blond’s cock into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirk goes slow only until the head makes it in. Fuck, John’s tightness is just as he remembers, albeit hazily, from their drunk hook-up back at the party. This time, though, he has the advantage of vividly feeling his hole squeeze him and swallow him greedily. The Strider bites his lip, then slams home. The direct friction is maddening, and he doesn’t waste any time to start vigorously pounding into the younger, taking in the way John’s body shakes and bobs with every thrust.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>
    <em>It’s. Too. Much.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, John savors every movement and twist of digits inside him, opening him up and stretching amazingly, every now and then hitting in just the right way on just the right spo-</span>
  <em>
    <span>OH FFFFUCK YES, RIGHT THERE</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The brunette’s moans turn into soft mewling, relying on biting and licking at his own hand to muffle himself, and simply letting the man do his magic finger work on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he feels the blond withdraw with a sigh, he needs to come back, he needs more, more, so much more and </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, here comes that swollen, plump cockhead he’s been craving unreasonably bad, poking gently at his tight entrance, so fucking good, so, so big, his hands spasm against the mattress as it pushes slowly in, he shudders as he already feels like he’s being filled up </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it's so fucking glorious his dick twitches in joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A jolt of sudden pain brings him right the fuck out of his trance making his eyes open wide with shock, </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dirk just </span>
  <em>
    <span>rammed </span>
  </em>
  <span>his huge cock deep into his hole, it feels so massive it could split him in half, like being sodomized with a steel girder. Probably the closest anyone can ever get to that with a real dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>. John sobs unable to utter one word just yet as the blond keeps slamming into him </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with no restraint, all the way, every powerful thrust making the brunette shake and cry out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D-dirk! S-shit-” fuck fuck he’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>mounting him</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a rabid beast. “Too much, it’s too much, slow down,</span>
  <em>
    <span> please</span>
  </em>
  <span>~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he can do is fist at the sheets desperately tight, muffle his cries into the pillow and pray that the Strider will have mercy on his near-virgin ass as his eyes start burning with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here's the thing though: he wants him to ease up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn't want him to stop.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Would you look at that, he actually achieved begging. Not really in the precise manner he'd envisioned, but that checks the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirk leans down, pressing his torso flush against John's back as he keeps rutting against him, but with shallower movements. "I recall hearing you say you wanted me at my angriest, John. What ever happened to that resolve?" There's provocation and spite in his voice, and maybe a hint of amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond rakes his nails down John's chest, holding his body firmly in place. Then, he grabs one of the man's shoulders and takes his lips the closest he can manage to the other's ear. "But alright. I'm actually proud of you for admitting you can't take it." And bites down on his shoulder blade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John's whines and tears are fuel to Dirk, but he doesn't want to have blood thrown in the mix, which is quite hypocritical of him, since a few minutes ago he was more than willing to beat the bastard into the concrete.</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <span>He doesn't want to think about resemblance right now.</span>
  </strike>
</p><p>
  <span>As promised, he complies and slows down to a pace he deems bearable, keeping the thrusts short and spaced until John gets loose enough for him to abuse his hole. With the way the brunette riled him up earlier, Dirk can barely hold back. Every time he remembers a taunt, a prank (there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking glitter on him and it isn't going anywhere anytime soon) or the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jake thinks they're friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it gets harder to not wreck him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The low growls in his ear send a shiver down John’s spine, his hair standing immediately on end. As Dirk finally goes a bit easier on him he manages to relax, as much as a virginal twink can with that colossal fuckstick deep up his back door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he feels so, so full (starting to consider</span>
  <em>
    <span> stuffed like a turkey</span>
  </em>
  <span> was about right), besides some discomfort he starts feeling deliciously stretched again, as opposed to being </span>
  <em>
    <span>torn open from the inside</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Accompanied by Dirk’s broad chest flush against his sweaty back, his hands all over John, scratching and groping, his deep dark voice, his hungry mouth on the smaller boy’s skin… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The brunette’s quiet sobs are turning back into desperate moans of delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a surprising remnant of wisdom, John decides not to answer the blond’s taunts… until he’s adapted around the man’s girth better. It’s getting there and he starts rutting and rolling his hips in circles against the Strider’s pelvis, wanting to massage his shaft. The Strider’s wet horny breath paints the skin on the brunette’s back, he can feel his panting on the back of his neck,</span>
  <em>
    <span> in his ear</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hot as all hell, John leans back into the bigger man and hooks his thin arm around the blond’s neck, desperate to catch his mouth, his tongue, feel the vibrations in his voice, get him deeper inside, feel him everywhere, closer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>. With his eyes closed and his head tipped up, he lets out a slow, deep groan of pleasure as they grind together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, the next jab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s cute, feeling so smug because you can overpower someone half your size, especially with that cock.” He’s not thinking exactly clearly. “Are you proud of it? Feel like a big man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John holds on for dear life and buckles up for the oncoming onslaught with his overbite digging into his bottom lip.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When John’s mouth switches from wallowing to wanton, Dirk smirks. For such a quick-mouthed brat that swears to be straight, he sure can moan like he’s been doing this his whole life. Who knows, maybe he has.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jake’s cousin is the picture of sexual bliss, moving his body in sync with Dirk’s and letting his vocal chords run wild, as loud as his lungs allow them to reach. His narrow hole is clutching Dirk’s wide cock as if it never wants it to leave, making the friction </span>
  <em>
    <span>divine </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the view obscene. Then, to make things even more lascivious, John arches his spine and turns his head, locking the blond closer to him with his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s fucking hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way John’s body seems to invite him in and accommodate him, the way the bastard knows all the wrong buttons to push to the point Dirk can barely think straight in anger, how crudely </span>
  <em>
    <span>satisfying </span>
  </em>
  <span>it is to subdue the brunette and watch him squirm—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, there it is. Yeah, Dirk didn’t expect him to stay quiet for long. Motherfucker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s fine, he knows what John’s aiming at. Only right now the brat has no leverage, he’s completely at Dirk’s mercy, trapped in his arms and depending on </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>pace to cum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirk has a bored look when he stares sideways at John. “Sure. And I’m glad you know your place, </span>
  <em>
    <span>kid</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he says that, the blond sits up, pulling out momentarily. Then, he pushes John flush against the mattress, leaving his legs still parted. Dirk grabs both of the man’s hands and locks them in an iron grip behind his back. With his free hand, then, he guides his raging hard-on back inside and picks up his pace, leaning forward to clutch John’s shoulder and keep him down as he plows him into the bed without hesitation.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>John lets out a laugh because he knows how hard the blond is pretending. He can hear it in his voice that’s not steady, when on a normal day every word out of Dirk’s mouth sounds like out of a robot, on the way his hands grip him, digging and kneading and hungry, in the sounds that come out of his stoic lips that, quiet as they are, still tickle and caress John’s skin with his breath. From how fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>stiff </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>throbbing </span>
  </em>
  <span>he feels that engorged shaft inside of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That delicious dick is making him delirious. It stuffs him so full, stretches him so wide open, he’s completely filled with tasty Dirk meat and he’s living for it. There can’t be a better feeling than being crammed deep with Strider cock, he will never admit it later to anyone or </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but right now there’s no lying and it’s squarely in the center of his mind. His voice starts climbing up in pure delectation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then motherfucking Strider </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulls out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, leaving him empty and gaping and in a disastrous amount of need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Son of a bi-” he tries to cry, but is pushed down on his fa</span>
  <span>ce with brute force, leaving him to sob a stifled whine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he feels Dirk forcing his arms behind his back in a vice, climbing on to straddle him </span>
  <strike>
    <b>
      <em>fuck yes</em>
    </b>
  </strike>
  <span> and his fat dickhead prodding at his asshole again, John shudders violently with anticipation and greediness. The blond enters him with no qualm or delay and John straight up squeals, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god</span>
  </em>
  <span> the angle is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so good</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>ball deep</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it’s fucking magnificent how he’s getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>bulldogged into oblivion</span>
  </em>
  <span> (</span>
  <em>
    <span>??! how- oh shit who cares</span>
  </em>
  <span>). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting thoroughly fucked into the mattress, John does his best to muffle every single pathetically needy sound deep into the pillow, not wanting to give the other man the satisfaction of hearing him unravel.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>As much as Dirk appreciates John’s wordlessness, he’s not about to cut him some slack. Oh no, Egbert has to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking hear himself screaming</span>
  </em>
  <span> in pleasure while being drilled into the bed by his dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves the hand on the brunette’s shoulder to his hair and wrenches his head from the pillow, just enough to unclog his mouth. When Dirk speaks, his voice is a little more rushed than usual, but just as charged with thick irritation. “Don’t think you’re gonna get away, you little shit,” he snarls, slowing down his tempo to let the words sink in. “I told you I expected </span>
  <em>
    <span>screaming </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the very least, so I wanna hear you moan until you drool like the bitch you are. Then, maybe, I’ll let you cum. I suppose you want that, right, shitty brat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To punctuate his blackmailing, Dirk angles his hips and stabs his dick right into John’s sweet spot, swinging back into an interlude-ish kind of pace.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>John is drowning among the myriad of sinful pleasures, the gloved hand fisting into his hair once again, Dirk’s aggressive drawl. Calling him </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch </span>
  </em>
  <span>made a warm sensation agonizingly coil in his belly, to be fair he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>mounting him like a dog in heat, and he’s still running his mouth, belittling him while practically fucking his brains out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why is this so fucking good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When the brunette’s ruthlessly pounded in the exact perfect spot he </span>
  <b>
    <em>screams</em>
  </b>
  <span>, oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god shit fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks he might die and he needs him to never stop but he can’t go on either or John’s gonna fucking burst like a volcano, fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to fight the pull on his head and failing at the Strider’s strength, he opts for taking a few breaths, more objectively gasping shudders, while the blond eases the pace. Might as well use that mouth, John.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you wanna hear me so bad, flip me around you bastard. Or are you afraid to look me in the eye sober? You wanna fuck me out of my mind, you might as well do it face to face.” He manages to shoot him a toothy smirk. “I’m sure the big bad </span>
  <em>
    <span>stallion </span>
  </em>
  <span>is not intimidated by eye contact.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dirk regrets already giving back John’s speaking rights. He tones down the speed even further, settling on an agonizingly slow pace. It’s torturous for him, but it must be </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>for John.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong answer.” The blond leans down and glares right into his rich blue eyes, half-lidded and clouded by lust. “You aren’t exactly in a position to bargain here, John.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The penetration slows down to teasing crawl and John tries and partially fails to repress a sob, half excruciating frustration and half glad he can at least simmer down for a moment to do things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dirk’s eyes on him seem to say</span>
  <em>
    <span> how torturing would it be to come at this pace, John?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Very</em>
  </b>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whining quietly every time the blond brushes past his sweet spot, which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>basically always</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>chock full of Strider dick</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he resolves to change his tactics. Whatever gets them access to those blazing eyes and mouth again, he’s past the point of caring about how things look, if he doesn’t get what he wants he might cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...he just wants them so fucking bad.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I ask nicely?” he does his best to try and twist around to face Dirk, doing his best impression of bratty puppy eyes. “Besides, I bet you’d love to see my ‘O’ fac</span>
  <span>e, since you’re enjoying making me suffer so much.” He treats the blond to his most deceptively innocent grin.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dirk smirks. John is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad at this. You can feel the desperation in his voice and pleas, which is about the worst thing possible in a negotiation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time to flip the score around. "Nah, I'll pass," Dirk drawls, in a disinterested tone, focusing on the feeling of John's ass squeezing his cock deliciously. "The view's fine as it is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's near the edge, but it's worth drawing it out if it means torturing the brunette. It's only fair to get some payback from the annoying streak of pestering he's gotten over the last week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spite is back in his voice when Dirk growls: "If you want romantic eye contact during sex, find someone to fuck who actually likes you."</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shitty shit shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn’t really have many hopes of that working, but it still stings cause he’s so fucking desperate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine, he hates him again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hissing from the slow pace, he clenches around the Strider’s girth for some extra friction relief, and takes a deep breath for a tirade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>want that and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you. I wanted to see all the sex faces I know you’re making over me regardless, but if you’re so keen on hiding it, I can humor you. I mean, you’re still the one who kissed me the first time, the one who jumped me in my house, the one who shoved your dick in my mouth on the stairs, but we can keep pretending you didn’t if it makes you feel less… vulnerable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s time to one-up like the wind, score all the points and win this game they’re playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…what was the game again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all the same. I think Rose might be better than you at this anyway.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Regardless of what John meant by ‘this’, just the mention of his sister’s name is enough to make his face twist into a scowl again. He really wishes he had his shades on, though they probably wouldn’t be able to do much in this situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows full well the brat is playing him into going into a mad rut again, and Dirk would maybe even make a better effort to resist it, but he’s getting tired. Of this, indulging a kid related to his ex’s whims, and of using his muscles. After all, he’s been running on a few hours of sleep for the past days and that’s done a number of him mentally, physically and emotionally, as it seems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>doesn’t want a piece of shit like you,” Dirk hisses, sweat dripping down his neck as he leans in. “And you’ll find that </span>
  <em>
    <span>vulnerable </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the very last thing I am, Egbert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the asshole can run his mouth again, the blond shifts his hands. One sets John’s arms free and braces his body on the bed and the other slides down from his hair to his neck, squeezing it tightly and pressing him into the mattress. Then, Dirk readjusts his legs and slams his hips down, entering a new level of furiously nailing the man into the sheets while fighting his heavy breathing.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s too much fun to stomp on Dirk’s big red ANGER button. For whatever reason that rage </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuels </span>
  </em>
  <span>John as much as it does the Strider, into manhandling him, into spitting abuse at him, into the only thing the brunette’s ever wanted since they started antagonizing each other, which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>driving him completely mad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Into fucking him raw like he is right now, channeling all his fury into John’s ass like a seething piston, so hot and so angry his voice is finally emerging, his grunts, hisses and groans resonating in the younger’s bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he does his best to stifle his growingly desperate and anguished sobs and whimpers into the bed, his toes curl, his hands fist into the sheets holding on for dear life, and John is so, so close to orgasming around that steel cock. He’s shaking, he’s crying, he’s gasping for air and failing, he wants the Strider’s come in him, he wants to hear him climax, he wants to touch him, scratch him, bite, kiss, smell, he wants fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dirk has, all to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even biting down on his own wrist, he can’t help but fall apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“Ahhng, Dirk, YES!”</b>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>If you asked Dirk two weeks ago where he’d be and told him he would be fucking Jake’s cousin raw like a rabid dog, he would have fucking called the cops on you. Just from the sheer </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity </span>
  </em>
  <span>to mention that name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, here he is, doing exactly that, and going delirious with it. All his heavy angry energy is being channeled into chasing his pleasure to the sound of Egbert’s loud chants of approval and it’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dirk can’t believe his body for being this fucking turned on from railing his closest friend’s bratty brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also can’t believe this guy’s actively reached out to stir him up just so he could get laid. Or did he want to get laid in </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>particular way? That’s probably it, but Dirk is a bit busy at the moment to think of how obvious that theory is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the blond gasps when he feels John’s ring spasming around his cock, then bites down on the brunette’s shoulder to stifle the groan that rumbles through his throat once his orgasm hits. His eyes scrunch closed in bliss and his scarred face is tinged with a flush from exertion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirk rides it out with powerful thrusts to milk out the man completely, the rhythmic slapping of their hips mingling with their mismatched pants as his dick injects his cum deep into John’s abused hole.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s like missing a step and free-falling into an abyss filled with dark pleasure. Like a cold stream trickling down every inch of him, stimulating every bit of skin and flesh it drips over. An orgasm with the intensity of white phosphorus hot rage, sizzling, charring, decimating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not enough to express John’s sensations at the peak, but it’ll have to do because his glasses finally fall off his face, his fingernails dig into the mattress so hard it hurts, his whole body trembles, spasms, shudders, their wild sounds of exhilaration intermingling give him the impression that their voices are mating with each other all of their own accord. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an earth-shattering cry he finally comes, blinded and tearing up from the sheer intensity of the pleasure shocking through his every nerve. His teeth are clenched tight as he rides the aftershocks together with Dirk’s vigorous thrusts drilling into him to the hilt, breeding him, pumping him full of deliciously creamy warm cum, so deep inside of him he’s convinced it’ll leave an aftertaste in his mouth. With one last shudder, he paints the bedsheets with his own long-overdue streak of sperm, and collapses in utter boneless bliss, panting breathless, mind completely erased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…thank you~”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking shitty hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's done it again, with no booze to excuse it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirk's fucked</span>
  <em>
    <span> John fucking Egbert again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hard. Thoroughly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enjoyably</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they both catch their breath, John collapsed onto the bed and Dirk bracing his arms on the bed, the blond thinks this was a piss poor idea, but the best fuck he's had in weeks. The only, also, which is possibly the reason his brain treacherously tosses that superlative into the sentence in the first place. Jesus, he hopes no one hears about this, or else he'll never live it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he's sure none of his muscles will falter ridiculously, Dirk slips out of the brunette and topples over on his back on the other side of the bed, eyes closed, facing the ceiling. "Shut up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few blissful moments, the only sound in the room is the breathy relief of their lungs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What now, cuddling?</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his self-censoring voice spits at him, making his eyebrows furrow. No, he's leaving as soon as he's not so fucking obviously smelling of sex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't want to look at John. Doesn't want to hear another quip about his lack of self-control or his sisters. Not even about how he's the poor victim of Dirk's anger slash sex drive, because he might actually strangle him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, it just so happens that they spend such a long time in unbelievable silence that, much to his waking dismay, his consciousness drifts away, and Dirk falls into slumber.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the tangerine eyes open again, his mind is wrangled from sleep and into full alarm. Dirk jolts upright in bed, taking in his surroundings. Right. John.</p>
<p>Ugh. <em> Egbert</em>.</p>
<p>He runs a hand through his face and immediately regrets it, thinking of all the places it’s been. Speaking of which…</p>
<p>The blond gets up, feeling sticky all over, and drags himself towards what he hopes is the bathroom. As it’s often true, he’s right.</p>
<p>After taking off his gloves and having a quick wash on the sink, he goes back to the bedroom to get dressed. John is nowhere to be seen, but there’s noise coming from downstairs…and the smell of something on the stove. Huh. Is this a family thing?</p>
<p>Dirk pulls on his underwear and pants, then looks around for his shirt. It’s not on the floor, but, after rustling through the sheets and ducking to check under the bed, he draws a blank. John is far too pissy to actually want to <em> wash his clothes</em>, so that’s a big no.</p>
<p>Wait. <em> John is far too pissy. </em></p>
<p>The blond groans his frustration, once again asking himself why the fuck is he here. He pockets his gloves and goes down the stairs, finding the source of noise.</p>
<p>Yeah, predictably enough, John’s wearing his fucking tank top, which fits him ridiculously, since he’s two sizes smaller, while cooking in his underwear before the stove. Dirk crosses his arms over his bare chest and leans sideways on the doorway.</p>
<p>“Don’t you have a shirt of your own?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>John is in the kitchen making eggs with bacon. This seems like a good use of mental faculties, especially if you’re trying to desperately refute the last 24 hours, possibly the last week or so, and your mind is refusing to without some inane mechanical activity to concentrate on as a placeholder.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>It’s not like he woke up with his head propped on Dirk’s shoulder, with his arm wrapped lazily around the Strider’s waist, tacky with last nights, um, dregs. Eugh, let’s not ruin this perfectly adequate breakfast where no denial freakout is taking place. There was no toe-curling climax, no screams of pleasure, no incredibly connecting moment when John could feel the blond's warm orgasm within him as he twitched and clenched around hi-BREAKFAST. Yeah, haha, that’s all we’re gonna think about right now, eggs and bacon and breakfast.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Also wondering if teenage hormones can be blamed after starting your twenties, that’d make sense right? Sort of? Or maybe because he hadn’t gotten any... <em> anything </em> really, in a very long time. Or in like, <em> ever</em>. Oh god, don’t think of Rose right now. Bad bad <em> bad</em>. <em> Eggs are looking good though. </em></p>
<p>…</p>
<p>So, he slowly got off the blond while he was sleeping deep and peaceful as if he hadn’t rested in days (definitely nothing to do with being blissed the fuck out of his mind after some excellent bed-rocking sex), feeling dirty and sore and sticky between his le-oh god he needed a shower so bad. He scampered to the bathroom as silently as an awkward dork with two left feet can make happen, and dove under the hot shower like it was the only hope to wash all the sins off his body. His hurting, scraped, bitten, stinging under the piping hot water body.</p>
<p>As he wrapped himself in a towel sighing, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the partially fogged-up mirror. And didn’t like it one bit. Scratches, bruises, love marks-wait no no just bruises, a different kind of bruises and not <em> hickeys</em>, all over his neck, chest, even on his upper lip. Time to go away from the mirror, asap, like now.</p>
<p>...again.</p>
<p>Dirk was still in a sound sleep while snoring softly <em> in his bed</em>, and John definitely didn’t want to wake him up. <em> Why </em>? Shut up, that’s why. Um, so he doesn’t have to look at his stupid face, that’s it. At least his stupid awake face. And not his serene sleeping semblance, like he was gawking at right now. When he managed to snap out of it and came back into his body, he grabbed a pair of clean boxers left around, then, finding his shirt into um, less than ideal condition, and not wanting to dig in his closet and risk waking Dirk up, he just grabbed the blond’s dark tank top off the floor and fled the room.</p>
<p>Absolutely not having a mental breakdown while climbing down the stairs, slipping into Dirk’s shirt that <em> absolutely </em> doesn’t smell nice, skipping over the last two steps where <em> absolutely fucking nothing </em> happened yesterday <em> right there</em>, he resolves to um, make him breakfast. Wait what? You know what yeah, whatever. It’s called being a good host. To the man who fucked your brains out last night. Off to the kitchen now, quick, go go go.</p>
<p>... </p>
<p>All is well, just bacons and eggs. Until there’s footsteps over his head, and John’s heart almost stops. Then steps down the stairs. Then a pair of the most tropical sunset colored eyes piercing him from the doorway, boring into his very soul, making even the brunette miss those ridiculous triangle shades. The same eyes he was desperate to look into last night while their bodies were interlocked and grinding and <em> moaning togeth</em>-</p>
<p>Nope, nope nope <em> noping the hell out</em>, stop, it’s not happening. Eggs and bacon is all we can focus on right now, haha. Look at all these chicken zygotes and pork fat shavings, so fascinating. Wait <em> what</em>, eeeew. Vegetarianism sounds like a wonderful option all of a sudden.</p>
<p>“Shirts are all in the shop” quips John with one eyebrow raised in derision, while focusing on stirring the shit out of his breakfast medley, yeah scrape the hell out of that pan, that’ll melt away the tension in the air. “Besides, my shirt was, um. Covered in. Staircase aftermath?” There’s no denying this in any way, but his stubborn as all fuck brain is gonna try its best anyway.</p>
<p>With the amount of exhaustion that only comes from intense and continued physical and emotional tension, John sighs. “Why don’t we have some breakfast like bros, simmer down, and then you can have your shirt back.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>A blond eyebrow twitches. Dirk has just woken up and he already feels like punching someone. Someone specific. Must be a new fucking record.</p>
<p>He shouldn't have come here. He should have just cleaned the fucking glitter. He should have just fixed it and ignored it, like he did to John's other pranks. But no, he'd thought to teach him a lesson, and now he's trapped in this ridiculous situation, far too domestic to play out with someone he dislikes for his taste. Or to play out with anyone at all, actually.</p>
<p>He pinches his nose. "I'm not your 'bro', Egbert, and I have shit to do. Give me back my shirt." His stomach betrays him by growling loudly and he squeezes his belly as if that's going to muffle the sound.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Come on man, you don’t have to be such a grouch. And you sound pretty hungry, I mean after last ni-” he cuts himself off. “Um, never mind last night, there’s no reason to not eat something all… friendly-like?”</p>
<p>John can’t help looking at the stomach that starving noise came out of, and accidentally gets caught up in staring at all those gnarly scars again, for way too long for Dirk not to notice. When he manages to snap his head back up, without the filter of dark lenses, he can plainly see the steely spark of anger in the Strider’s eyes, glowing like a very unfriendly warning.</p>
<p>John tries a peace-offering in the form of a buck-toothed smile, and raises his hands.</p>
<p>“Look don’t bite my head off, ok? Have some eggs with me, we can uh, talk? Nothing weird, just buds having a meal, in the morning, after getting uh, a little carried away.” He chuckles nervously, though to be fair it has been proven he <em> should </em> be nervous around this man. “It’s ok, that wasn’t even a <em> thing</em>. Besides it’s not like I’m just gonna strip in the kitchen for you, it’s not, uh.” Choose your words carefully, Egbert. “Appropriate. Um, gentlemanly? I just don’t want to, ok.” He’s inadvertently backing away slowly from the blond. “So let’s just do this, and I’ll go change in a minute and give you your top back. We’ll go back to normal, to how things are <em> supposed to be</em>.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The brunette’s nervousness poses weak relief to Dirk’s mood, but it’s something. The blond likes to think he’s above the ‘mad dog’ persona, but that kind of character comes in handy to keep outsiders away. </p>
<p>However, when he notices what’s caught John’s eyes, Dirk clenches his jaw and shifts his weight between his legs.</p>
<p>“I don’t know your definition of ‘friend’, but mine doesn’t involve constantly hassling me while I’m trying to work.” He looks around the kitchen, noticing it’s very well equipped. “Speaking of which, don’t you have anything better to do?”</p>
<p>Wait, do his ears betray him or is Egbert trying to weasel his way out from admitting to last night’s events as they happened? Who is Dirk trying to fool, of course he is. How predictable. Why did he even give in to this idiot’s taunts?</p>
<p>As the sunlight catches his hand and a patch of skin shimmers, he remembers. Ah yes, the goddamn fucking glitter. Fair enough. Jesus christ, he’ll have to <em> clean that shit up </em> when he gets back. He has half a mind to drag Egbert with him as he is now to fucking <em> lick it clean</em>.</p>
<p>Although…John seems to be ‘done’ with him.</p>
<p>Dirk feels angry just from standing near the asshole. It’s ridiculous how the younger man gets him riled up when he can usually at least pass off an image of indifference.</p>
<p>He hangs his head and takes a deep breath, then starts slowly stepping towards the man. “‘Friendly-like’, ‘buds’, ‘carried away’, ‘a thing’, ‘gentlemanly’, <em> ‘normal’ </em> . Some interesting word choices you have there, Egbert. It’s a shame they’re all bullshit.” Dirk cages John between his arms in front of the stove, having the guy face him. “How <em> things are supposed to be</em>, John, are whatever the fuck we make of them. And you can’t run from the ball-slapping sex we had yesterday because <em> you </em> actively sook me out to get my attention so I’d fuck you <em> again</em>, mind you, since although we were both in a sorry state that night, there was <em> yet another occasion </em> in which you took my dick like a pro. I don’t give a shit if you’re chasing your own tail in your head about who you sleep with, as long as you quit getting <em> me </em>involved.” His voice is low and steady, sharp like the cool blade of a katana. “Now give back my fucking shirt.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> Why do shame, nausea, and disappointment walk together into a bar? </em>
</p>
<p>No, that’s lame.</p>
<p>Guess he’ll stick with the bar idea, though. John <em> would </em>like to know what kind of cocktail has shame, nausea, disappointment, anger and sadness as ingredients, because that’s what’s in his stomach right now and he has no shitting idea what to call it. Instead of even remotely trying to interpret it, he looks into Dirk's eyes, trying to read him. And what he sees is painful. He searches frantically, trying to find something, anything that tells him they can fix this. But he doesn’t. And they can’t.</p>
<p>It hurts. Why does his chest hurt, why does his throat hurt, his eyes. It smells like burnt, but he doesn’t bother turning around to the stove, he’s lost what little appetite he had in the first place anyway. Instead, he just pulls the tank top over his head aggressively, almost hitting the Strider in the face in the process.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should work on your body language, maybe consider <em> not trapping people between your arms </em> when you’re trying to tell them to <em> eat shit</em>.” He slaps the shirt against Dirk's stomach with way more force than is strictly necessary, not waiting a second to let go and leaving the blond to scramble and catch it. “Next time you do your guard dog brother act, keep it in fucking mind.” He doesn’t even know what he’s accusing Dirk of anymore, all he knows is he’s so blind mad his breath comes out in shudders. He practically <em> nails </em>an angry blue look into the man’s orange eyes.</p>
<p>Then John Egbert does something unusual for him, he makes use of latent intelligence in him that rarely comes into focus long enough.</p>
<p>“What do <em> you </em>run from, Dirk?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s a deafening, seemingly eternal silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll tell you what I think it is. I think I drive you crazy. I think it’s maddening to you that there’s something about me that you can’t control no matter how hard you try, that riles you up and takes you to limits of yourself you don’t like. I think <em> you </em> don’t like being around <em> me </em> because I bring your real self out. <b>And you hate it.</b>"</p>
<p>John makes a point to spit on the floor near them, and if he didn’t know better, he’d almost think Dirk looks startled.</p>
<p>“Go back to your fake life Dirk, and get the <b>fuck </b>out of my father’s house.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dirk narrowly avoids an elbow to the face as he watches Egbert go on about things he knows jack shit about. At least now they're both frustrated.</p>
<p>His face betrays him and scrunches up in annoyance, his fist clenching the shirt in his hand. Why is he being so easily overwhelmed? And where the <em> fuck </em>are his shades?</p>
<p>He doesn't even realize he's in silence until the man spits on the floor. It's pretty ridiculous, but it gets the point across. It's also pretty rewarding to see the smart-mouthed brat shaken, too, though it's coming at the expense of an impromptu analysis of Dirk's psyche.</p>
<p>Needless to say, he's not happy about it.</p>
<p>Thus, here we have two unhappy men in a kitchen with a breakfast unhappily burning on the stove, plus one fat thick silence to boot. Yeah, time to bail.</p>
<p>Dirk's voice is surprisingly calm, if stern, when he says, "You don't know shit about me, Egbert."</p>
<p>He shoves himself off the counter and strides back to the entrance, slipping on his shirt in the process. Without sparing a look back, the Strider opens the door with more intensity than necessary and lets it slam shut on his way out.</p>
<p>As he power-walks back home, hands shoved in the pockets of his glitter-littered pants, he squints at the sunlight, antsy to get home soon. The blond mentally assesses the aftermath of their little scene. His body is still sticky and his clothes could use a wash, and with some more irritation he realizes he probably has some marks on his body somewhere. Shit.</p>
<p>To top it all off, his tank top now smells like John.</p>
<p>Incinerator it is.</p>
<hr/>
<p><b> <em>SLAM</em></b>.</p>
<p>He’s gone.</p>
<p>John leans back against the stove, still busy scorching the eggs to a blackened pile of cinders. They’re done for.</p>
<p>He finally caves and turns the fire off, a thousand mile stare going through the once-appealing charred food. He’d throw them angrily into the sink, but he can’t bring himself to. All his energy has been drained off. Also, <em> why</em>, what’s the freaking point.</p>
<p>If only he could go back to bed and hide himself in the sheets but, suddenly, it doesn't seem as comforting as it used to be in there. Instead, he just lets his body slide down the counter all the way down to the floor. With heavy fatigue, emptiness in his stomach, and a weak sigh he braces his arms around his knees, hangs his head and closes his eyes against the unforgiving, cold, early morning sun.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 5 ended super sad, so here's a double update! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Torching pieces of fabric, Dirk figures, does not erase memories. That is a conclusion he reaches after the ninth day of John's words echoing in his head in an obsessive loop. It's bordering on pathological.</p>
<p>Is he terminally done with Dirk this time or did their last verbal altercation prompt further retaliation? The thought of what John might do next makes the blond apprehensive, but he keeps his mind in check so as to not get paranoid about Jake's brat of a cousin.</p>
<p>Well, no matter. Today is Monday once again, the day of the week in which people are lulled into starting new projects by a false sense of renovation, which means there's a slightly greater possibility of incoming email. Dirk washes the grease off his hand from the latest prototype he's been working on and plops down on his chair.</p>
<p>There are a few spam messages, some others from the occasional newsletter (shit, unpleasant thoughts, don't think about that), and a calendar reminder. It's not like he needs it, but forgetting dates would be unacceptable.</p>
<p>Well, certain dates, at least. He pulls up his friend's chat box.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has started messaging gutsyGumshoe --</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Hey, your birthday is coming up. Would you like me to go ahead and make the reservation or should we wait to see how your schedule works out?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Knowing her to be busy, he occupies himself with reading some news online and catching up to his 'watch later' playlist on YouTube. Now that he thinks about it, he should probably get something to eat. When was the last time he ate again?</p>
<p>Only after he's grabbed something to fill his stomach with and read Twitter drama to the point of retiring from the Internet for the day does his chat app ping with a reply. He's in the middle of his workout, so he finishes the set he's counting and gets up to check it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has started messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Oh dear, it's that time of the year already? Hoho!</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: As much as I honor our tradition, Dirk, I might have to give you a rain check on that dinner.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: It has been an absolute mayhem over here!</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: That's okay, we'll go out when things simmer down.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Did anything happen, though?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Might be simpler to ask what hasn't, I reckon.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: We've recently opened a new branch for Crocker Corp and set up a virtual stock management for our supply chain.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: However, for some reason, the servers are not connecting to the headquarters, so we are flying blind at our main office!</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Have you tried contacting the manufacturer?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Yes, but they haven't managed to fix the issue yet, and their replies are growing scarce with every exchange.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Oh, they can count on me to spread the most negative of feedbacks about their customer service!</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Hm. Is the software functioning normally at the branches?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: It seems so.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I see. Do you think I could take a look at the equipment at your office?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I suppose it can't hurt, but aren't you busy?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Nah. I'm waiting for feedback.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I'll be there in half an hour.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Oh, you really don't have to!!!</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Don't worry about it. If anything, think of it as a personal challenge for me.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: You and your "personal challenges". :B</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: But thank you, Dirk. I appreciate it.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Don't mention it.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I'm sorry I have been distant. I'm afraid I am a bit too old and dedicated to my job to idly judge the contestants of reality shows with you as much as we used to in highschool.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: It's a shame, but understandable. The color blind designers can surely wait.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Hehe. Alright, I've got to run. I'll leave your name on the reception desk so that you can come in.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Make yourself at home and I will come meet you as soon as possible.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Great, thanks.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: See you, D. Strider! ;B</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: See ya soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has ceased messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The blond finishes up with some quick stretching, takes a shower and leaves in a casual T-shirt, some dark jeans and his trademark shades. It's a hassle to use his bike for a quick trip, so he calls a car and gets to the main building of Crocker Corp at the heart of the city in a few minutes.</p>
<p>The receptionist meets him with a polite smile and leads him to Jane's office after he states his business there. As she's speculated, she's not done with her previous appointment yet, so he strolls into the room and stops by the wide window on the wall to gaze at the bustling traffic below.</p><hr/>
<p>It’s another dull and grating day at the Crockercorp baked goods and diabetes acceleration products empire, and John is so, so sick of this shit. Why he chose to ever listen to Jane and join her in the climb up the tacky pastry corporate ladder, he’ll never know. There wasn’t a better option in his mind at the time other than going to business school and succumbing to his sister’s utopian vision of a cake-based Crocker-Egbert dynasty… which, right now, after some harsh lights shining on his life, sounds like a big fat red flag to him. He guesses this is the month where he questions every single crumbling aspect of his existence.</p>
<p>…but who wouldn’t, carrying cups of coffee around all day from their in-house and in John’s eyes <em> insidious </em> Crockercorp-owned coffee shop, or sending memos in disgusting confectionery-themed stationery (cinnamon bun is for general announcements, strawberry shortcake for executive memos, <em> BARF </em> ). Truth be told it’s by John’s own choice that he’s occupied with these menial tasks, his ongoing business degree makes him apt for far more skilled duties, but that’s. Just. An <em> abhorrent </em> prospect. He’d rather busy himself around doing nothing of value for this ridiculous company other than barging in too loud and pissy wherever he’s summoned, projecting a general air of <em> fuck you and the horse you rode in on</em>, and rolling his eyes at any chore laid in front of him.</p>
<p>Like the one he’s glaring at right now. Tired of him, quote: ‘<em>pussyfooting around </em> ’, Jane unceremoniously dumped an unholy pile of bright-colored cardboard on his desk, asserting that it was ‘<em>about to get fun in here! </em>’, shot an overbitten grin a perfect reflection of his own back his way, then disappeared in a click-clack of sensible elegant shoes to some big shot power meeting or whatever the shit those droning execs get up to. Leaving John with a mount of stupid to sort through in some way or form with no instructions whatsoever.</p>
<p>Crockercorp seems to be trying to get in on the greeting card market. Delightful. Let’s see what kind of dubious sugar-based bullshit they’ve come up with.</p>
<p>‘<em>Our wedding was so emotional. Even the cake was in tiers!! </em> ’ …next. <em> Please</em>.</p>
<p>‘<em>I like BIG BUNDTS and I cannot lie! </em> ’ with a cartoony picture of a bundt cake, reminding way too much of a huge gaping- ugh, whatever.</p>
<p>‘<em>The cake is a lie…</em> ’ Turn over. <em> ‘But our love is </em> <em> for realz</em><em>!!’  </em>John wishes he was <em> dead</em>.</p>
<p>‘<em>Babies are just like donuts… they take five minutes to make, but 18 years to lose! </em>’ How does that even make sense?! Also, great product marketing, seriously.</p>
<p>The next one has a sexy female-shaped cake (<em>what</em>) with a speech balloon that says ‘<em>WANNA PIECE OF ME? :D </em> ’. Seriously, <em> WHAT</em>. What the fuck is this for, cakeslut bachelorette party occasions? That’ll come in handy <em> never</em>. </p>
<p>John is seriously considering sweeping the desk clean into his trash can, then crash-running through the giant glass front on this preposterous fork-shaped building and see if the ten-story drop dares not to kill him, when he hears the name that freezes the blood in his veins.</p>
<p>
  <em> Dirk Strider? </em>
</p>
<p>After a few seconds of negation he dares peek from his adjacent smaller office into Jane’s, barely poking his head in through the connecting corridor like a little timid mouse, only to see a very familiar silhouette standing with its back turned to him.</p>
<p>MOTHER. <b> <em>FUCK</em></b>.</p><hr/>
<p>“Dirk!” Jane’s voice snaps him out of his trance, making him turn to the door. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t, I just got here,” he assures her, uncrossing his arms. She beams up at the sight of his face, even if he’s barely moved a muscle, and gives him a half-hug, as best as possible when she’s holding a file close to her body. That’s just the kind of familiarity the two highschool friends have.</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s good, then. I’m glad to see you’re well.” <em> Debatable</em>, Dirk’s mind supplies, but he focuses on her foxy smile. “Well, I won’t waste your time, since I know you’re not here on vacation,” Jane cuts to the chase, just the way the blond likes it. “Here, I’ll log you onto my account. Oh, my bad! Do you want some coffee or water?”</p>
<p>He follows her around her desk, idly looking around. “Coffee would be nice.”</p>
<p>“Your wish is my command,” she flashes that trademark toothy smirk. “Well, actually, not quite <em> mine</em>.” After Jane inserts her password, she steps away from the computer and yells in her young up-and-coming businesswoman voice: “John! Could you get us a cup of coffee? Also, Dirk is here, in case you want to say hello!”</p>
<p>Dirk’s mind just stops working for a second. Fuck. Fuck, of course, yes, she had mentioned she’d employed her little brother before, but he had not connected the dots. Fucking hell, he doesn’t want to see him.</p>
<p>“I understand you’ve been in touch, yes? It’s nice to see him actually trying to make friends outside family, sometimes I worry-- Dirk, is everything alright?”</p>
<p>When the blond snaps back to the present, Jane has her thin eyebrows furrowed in concern. He quickly recomposes himself and nods. “Yeah, sorry, just got lost in thought for a second there. You said the problem is connecting to the servers?”</p>
<p>“Oh, right, precisely. No orders are coming in or out, they just won’t update,” she explains, just before her phone starts ringing and there’s the sound of footsteps approaching. <em> Shit</em>. “Oh, rats, I’ve got to take this,” she exclaims at the screen, then turns to face the emerging figure. “John, dear, just in time! John, help Dirk around with whatever he needs, will you? I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Jane gestures vaguely between the two of them with her phone, picking up the call in one smooth move as she heads out to the hallway.</p>
<p>And just like that, she’s gone, leaving them both to deal with… each other.</p><hr/>
<p>John sits back at his desk like that might save him from something, with deer-in-headlights eyes, clenching his fists open and closed in anxiety. Almost. <em> Almost managed to avoid and forget about that… </em> <b> <em>Strider</em></b>, he enunciates in his mind with clenched teeth, denying himself the designation he really wanted to use. </p>
<p>Absentmindedly tugging at his stupid red sweater vest provided by the company (<em>why</em>) and wanting to rip the stupid Crockercorp cake wedge pin off where it sits on the left of his chest (even more <em> why</em>) he starts eyeing the exits with frantic nerves. Who is he kidding though, this blasted place is like 80% made of glass, almost impossible to sneak out of unseen. He briefly considers a disguise or some other kind of goofy shenanigan that will make him go unnoticed. Back in a more light-hearted day he would have tried passing for a different co-worker or sneaking out hidden in a potted plant, but right here, right now he promptly decides <em> THIS IS STUPID </em> and erases that possibility from his mind.</p>
<p>
  <em> When a man is tired of hijinks, his heart is dead inside of him. </em>
</p>
<p>Sounds like something their father might have said.</p>
<p>Jane’s echoing heeled stride can already be heard coming down the ample hallway, maybe she’ll distract him after all and there won’t even be any- unless of course, she calls on John for coffee. Which of course she does. Shit shit <em> shit</em>.</p>
<p>…ok. <em> Breathe, be mature unlike most every other day of your life, and just. Indifference</em>. That was almost a coherent sentiment. Yeah, he can do this.</p>
<p>Not exactly in a rush, John paces to the espresso machine on their floor, trying to decide how to utilize this super crucial coffee run. He could come back with one of those Crockercorp’s signature abominably sugary concoctions that they ridiculously dare to call coffee, that sounds perfectly disgusting and appropriate for the setting. Who could blame him.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>Instead, he fills two cups with a brew dark as a raven’s heart on a moonless night and takes them back with him, with a resigned sigh. At the door of Jane’s office, he stops for a spell to compose himself. He’s never hated more being the self-inflicted coffee-getter, you’re such a fucking idiot, John Egbert. </p>
<p>Mental respite time ends abruptly when Jane spots him from her office’s corner while pacing around, like she always is. After a cheery greeting on his way in, she grabs one of the cups off his hands leaving the saucer back with him, and goes off to talk on the phone leaving him… <em> in charge of Dirk?! </em> This is such <em> bullshit</em>.</p>
<p>Remember to <em> breathe</em>, you forgot again.</p>
<p>Walking towards the desk in a way that he hopes seems casual, he greets the blond, “Mr. Strider.” And then, quietly groaning and rolling his eyes at his own dorkiness, correcting “Dirk.” And with not another word he leaves the cup of black coffee only slightly out of the Strider’s reach on the desk.</p>
<p>John stands right there, sweeping his hands down his sweater vest nervously, looking at him in uncomfortable silence. To his credit, there’s only the slightest hint of a pout on his face.</p><hr/>
<p>Behind the shield of his glasses, Dirk is able to glance at John, then down at the passive-aggressively positioned cup of coffee, then back at the boy's ridiculous outfit while pretending to stare at the computer.</p>
<p>Egbert looks... well, he looks like shit. Yeah, he's a little shit, but he has the general aura of someone who would rather be literally anywhere else, including, but not limited to, under a bus.</p>
<p>Not that Dirk gives even one quarter of a fuck, though.</p>
<p>"Egbert." He settles for a surname basis, clipped and indifferent. He takes one wide step to the side to fetch the coffee, facing him as if daring him to come closer, then goes back to clicking away on the computer.</p>
<p>However, having the object of his past frustration so close makes it hard to ignore the feeling. Without realizing it, he starts nervously shaking his leg.</p>
<p>"It's a problem in the local network," he says after a while, mostly to himself. "For some goddamn fucking reason, the devices' default configurations are incompatible with the server this software uses, but it should be fine after manually installing a driver or two." </p>
<p>Dirk pushes off the desk he's braced on and puts his hands on his hips, eyes still fixed on the computer. There's residual tension in his shoulders despite his best efforts at playing it cool.</p>
<p>"I'm going to need to take a look at the other computers to see if it tracks." He takes a sip of the coffee, surprised it's actually the way he likes it. When he speaks again, though, there's the background taste of poison in his words. "Are you the errand boy around here?"</p><hr/>
<p><em> Egbert </em> is not sure why he stands there in tense as shit silence for so long, but when <em> Strider </em>finally talks (ah, there’s the deflecting dead-inside tone he was anticipating), he glances up with the equivocally placid look of someone who’s thoroughly resigned. Or at the end of his fucking rope and about to snap.</p>
<p>“<em>Self-inflicted </em> executive errand boy,” he drones, perfectly pleasant, serene and monotone, keeping eye contact, “as long as you want something asinine and useless.” The sarcasm was laid on so thick he could have sworn the Strider turned slightly to look at him, or he would if he gave a flying fuck.</p>
<p>Dirk keeps blathering about something technical he cares about even less, with the brunette’s pointed side-look firmly planted on him.</p>
<p>“Well,” John replies automatically without ever processing a single word of the tirade, “should you need any <em> further </em>assistance, you can fetch me from the office next door. Or you can try whistling, see if I come running like a dog.” He shoots the blond a grin completely devoid of kindness, then without waiting for a response he quickly marches back through the doorway into his office.</p>
<p>As he comes back to his desk, the exhausted brunette has to slap a bunch of greeting cards that slid off mount cheesecake out of his chair so he can collapse down. Frustrated, and with his computer blocked enough by colorful cardstock he can’t even Gooble <em> most painless way to commit suicide</em>, he yanks his sweater vest over his head, suddenly feeling his skin radiating heat, then loosens his tie. He stares down at it with dejection.</p>
<p>It’s hard, feeling like a kid trapped in a man’s body. It’s hard and nobody understands.</p><hr/>
<p>When Dirk threw that prod John's way, he was considering escalating his jabs, but it seems the man beat him to it. He can't help raising his eyebrows in surprise, even if barely perceptibly. Well, saves him the trouble, he guesses.</p>
<p>Also... apparently, there are <em> some </em>things he admits to, then. Homosexual flings just aren't one of them.</p>
<p>As a gesture of proportionate kindness, Dirk doesn't comment further nor offer any comeback, just allows John to escape into his office. If he hates it so much, why the fuck is he still here? Is he really that spineless? Where's the nerve he'd splurged when he was going out of his way to set Dirk's hypothalamus on fire a couple of weeks ago?</p>
<p>Whatever. The blond decides to check the computers of the floor they're in, at least, since the headquarters seems to be Jane's main concern. He makes the rounds, asking people to take a look at their devices. Earlier, he intended to ask John to relay a circular for everyone to shut their Netflix and/or porn to optimize time, but after that masterful self-roast, Dirk even let him off the hook. Doesn't matter much anyway, he's just going to spend an additional ten seconds per desk explaining what he needs to do and minimizing windows on the screen.</p>
<p>He's almost done and on his way back to Jane's office to check if everything's in order when he walks by a dark room with yet another computer. The power is turned off, but the office seems to be used regularly. He tries asking the janitor and the secretary, but none of them have access to it. Damn.</p>
<p>Dirk takes a deep breath before knocking and entering John's room. "There's a locked room beside the vending machine I need to get into. Do you have the keys?"</p><hr/>
<p>When he thinks his mood for the day couldn’t get any worse, in comes <em> Dirk motherfucking Strider </em> once more (not even ten minutes later) waltzing back into his life. Or office space anyway.</p>
<p>John sighs dramatically, but with less spunk than he usually would.</p>
<p>“I have no shitting idea what’s in there. It’s probably like a cake closet? Knowing this place it’s either that or something mind-numbingly boring.”</p>
<p>When it’s apparent <em> solely that </em> won’t do to get the blond out of his sight, he open his desk drawer with aggressive annoyance, scattering some more cards around him with the motion until he digs out what Jane called his <em> master keyring</em>, but is in reality his <em> you can now fetch anything from anywhere we need you to </em> main tool.  And speaking of tools.</p>
<p>With it, he gets up and slips past Dirk, getting too close for his taste in the narrow doorway, but dedicating him simply a dry, half-bored look. He strides to the aforementioned mystery door with the blond following, and starts fiddling with the lock.</p>
<p>“Let’s see what kind of ominous bullshit is hidden in the sugary bowels of Crockercorp’s executive floor” John muses aloud flatly, wearing an unimpressed expression.</p><hr/>
<p>Dear fucking god. John is fucking <em> pathetic</em>.</p>
<p>He sounds and looks dead. It’s like his spirit decided to fuck off and die in a ditch and what’s still moving and talking is his empty carcass. Defeat rolls off of him in waves, Dirk is almost unsettled.</p>
<p>The underlying tone of his sharp remarks about his company taste different from the barbs he’s shot Dirk so far. They seem directed at himself more so than towards Crocker Corp and Jane themselves.</p>
<p>It figures that pissing off Dirk was the most exciting thing John could think of in his life.</p>
<p>Still, he refuses to feel sorry for the asshole. He’s even glad his sister tossed this loser, she deserves better.</p>
<p>He unlocks the door and steps in after John, sparing a look around before booting up the computer. It’s a generic office, seemingly used as a spare. There are some colored plants in two corners, a somewhat disturbing piece of decoration. Well. Dirk’s not to judge.</p>
<p>“Leave the key if you want to go back to your desk,” he instructs, then can’t help adding: “Don’t let me keep you from your important business.”</p><hr/>
<p>Prickly barbs from a sizzling Strider, <em> ouch</em>. As much as that would have titillated him previously, he’s done engaging with this toxic shit now. Still, John throws him a knowing smile with tired eyes and a slightly raised eyebrow, lets the keys drop over the blond’s gloved palm (catch ‘em or don’t) and makes a show of straightening his tie back up all business-like, and definitely <em> not with painful amounts of underlying sarcasm</em>.</p>
<p>The brunette doesn’t spare another word, just turns his back on the Strider and casually strolls away from him with his hands in his pockets.</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk barely catches the keys dropped <em> at </em>him, ending up just staring after John even after the man’s already dragged himself out of the room. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the air just got several kilopascals heavier.</p>
<p>Anyway. He fixes the issue on the second-to-last computer, which leaves only…</p>
<p>“Shit.” The blond hangs his head, dragging a hand over his face. Shouldn’t Jane be back by now?</p>
<p>After he’s turned off the computer and the lights, locked the door and hooked the keys on his middle finger, he strolls back to her office. Nope, not here yet. Damn, he could go for another coffee.</p>
<p>Ten minutes go by and no signal of his friend. Fuck, okay, let’s just get this over with.</p>
<p>Dirk walks over to John’s office once again, opens the door and leans on the frame. “I need to adjust something on your computer too.”</p><hr/>
<p>John’s tie is off again, tossed to the side together with his vest over a file cabinet (<em>why are those still a thing</em>) and he's about ready to call it a day. At 12:30 pm. On a Monday. </p>
<p>Maybe he should tell Jane they’re gonna need to make different arrangements for next week. Or at the very least try and make an effort to talk to her. She’s always so energetic. How can she always be so phenomenally enthusiastic. It’s almost disappointing.</p>
<p>…that seemed to make sense to him.</p>
<p>Squeaky sneakers are loudly stepping back up the hallway, making John close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose with a huff. Only one other person is wearing noisy rubber soles on this floor, the rest is clicks and clacks of grown-up non-dysfunctional adult business shoes. He stares down at the <em> Egbert blue </em> sneakers that he wears every day together with his stupid blue tie, his body physically rejecting the possibility of blending in with the red Crockercorp attire, and predominantly red environment. Red computers, red architecture, red coffee mugs, red suit on Jane, just. Seeing red everywhere, all the time.</p>
<p>
  <em> Sigh. And Strider. </em>
</p>
<p>“I need to adjust something on your computer too.”</p>
<p>“…”</p>
<p>John just can’t bring himself to… anything. With that man.</p>
<p>He lets the blond approach, then with a deadpan expression picks up a random greeting card without looking and hands it to him as a means of communication. Or lack thereof.</p>
<p>It says ‘<em>You’re my cream-filled sticky bun.</em>’ What the <em> hell </em>is going on down at the graphic design department, why are most of these at least vaguely sexual?! He should warn Jane she might have to send someone to do a sweep for creepy perverts among the staff.</p>
<p>As the Strider eyes the card, John simply crosses his arms over his chest and waits, dedicating him another serious but far more exasperated than earlier look.</p><hr/>
<p>‘<em>You’re my cream filled sticky bun.</em>’ Dirk blinks, reading it over and over again, trying to process morphology, syntax, semantics, pragmatics, context. Somehow, the most confusing part is Crocker Corp’s logo in the corner of the card. No wonder the employees are dead inside, what the fuck is this?</p>
<p>He flips it over and back again, then glances at John, who seems to be under the impression that handing him that cringy profession of love (?) means something. The blond finally remembers phonetics.</p>
<p>“Flattering,” Dirk says in a tone that indicates precisely the opposite, “but I still need to use your machine.” With that, he steps closer, dropping the card onto the desk. Jesus, there seems to be a pile of those stupid cards. “Move.”</p><hr/>
<p>
  <b> <em>No.</em> </b>
</p>
<p>That’s what John’s body language is screaming. He considers gesturing to the pile of tacky stationery, to signify <em> you can’t, look at all this shit over here</em>, but instead he contents himself with shooting the cardboard heap a quick look, another one where he has to guess the Strider’s citrus eyes are, then closes his own, and waits for something to happen. Because he knows it’s coming. He’s so exhausted though, he can’t bring himself to care even in the slightest.</p>
<p>A flashback, of Dirk catching him just in time in his arms, while he was bare, blissed, boneless and… at his mercy.</p>
<p>Maybe he’ll just let him fall this time.</p><hr/>
<p>In all bare, true honesty, Dirk cannot <em> conceive </em>which version of Jane’s bratty fucking brother exasperates him the most: the snappy, bitchy, needy child he fucked the other day or the corporate, brain-dead, stubborn, depressive fucking prick sitting before him this very moment. Is this John’s new act to piss him off or is he just that goddamn moody?</p>
<p>Whatever, he hasn’t got the patience to deal with this. Dirk takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling, then he leans down and grips the armrest on each side of John’s chair and gives it one vigorous impulse backwards, letting go of it as the wheels slide away on the carpet.</p>
<p>Without wasting any more time, the blond minimizes everything on the brunette’s computer, pulls up the network settings and fixes the problem in under thirty seconds. Then, he closes the windows and pulls away, straightening up. “There we go. Quick and painless.”</p>
<p>“Gosh, I am so sorry, some people just won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, even when there is no other possible alternative,” Jane comes in right the next second, profusely supplying apologies and excuses. “Oh good, you’re both here. Now Dirk, don’t you go encouraging John to slack off, huh?”</p>
<p>Jane really couldn’t possibly have misread the situation more.</p>
<p>“I’m glad you two are getting along, though!”</p>
<p>Except she could.</p>
<p>“I mean, it <em> is </em>a bit unexpected, especially given that whole thing with Rose.” Dirk’s head snaps up then. “God knows Strider can hold a grudge, I thought he’d never get over it.”</p>
<p>The blond’s jaw tightens. He wants to growl at the Crocker in warning, but this is no place to cause a scene. His eyes are shielded, so he also can’t glare at her or make some other universal ‘cut that shit out’ that could put him out of his misery.</p>
<p>“But I’m glad you did,” she smiles warmly at Dirk, perceptible even under layers of corporate-cold makeup, and reaches out to squeeze his arm affectionately. Then, she turns to the other man. “This guy sure looks much tougher than he is, doesn’t he, John?'”</p>
<p>An awkward silence settles in the room like wine creeps onto the couch and stains the fabric. After far too long, Dirk clears his throat. “Anyway, I was just finishing up. Everything should be working correctly,” he drones, stepping towards the door and <em> away from John before he gets lumped with him again. </em></p>
<p>“Wonderful! You’re a dear, Dirk, thank you kindly. C’mon, I’ll show you out,” she says, starting after him, then stops at the door and turns back: “And John, get back to work! Those cards aren’t going to sort themselves out on their own, now will they?”</p>
<p>She shuts the door and walks with Dirk to the reception on the floor to say goodbye.</p>
<p>Well that was stressful.</p><hr/>
<p>John rolls over the floor lazily on a desk chair, pushed back <em> again? </em> by a man he… <em> hates? </em></p>
<p>He thinks he should really be allowed to feel something. Anger, condescension, spite, shame. But… nah. Instead he finishes rolling as he bonks softly against the file cabinet, rattling it slightly and making the poorly-balanced blue tie land on his head. <em> This is fine. </em></p>
<p>In comes Jane, as he finally manages to bat it off. Chirping joyfully, like there’s nothing that <em> gets her jolly </em> more than soulless corporate maneuvers and quarterly fiscal projections. </p>
<p>She manages to make his ocean-blue eyes widen with her gushing about Dirk, though. She thinks they’re <em> friends </em> and that makes his stomach tighten miserably. <em> This guy sure looks much tougher than he is, doesn’t he, John? </em></p>
<p>
  <em> I don’t know, Jane. Have you had him impersonally fuck you raw into a crying mess? Yeah, didn’t think so. </em>
</p>
<p>He, being the only one addressed whose eyes aren’t covered by stupid black plastic, does shoot a vicious warning glare towards Jane, one that of course goes right over her head. He doesn’t want to hear about Dirk’s stupid magical friendship qualities. He doesn’t want to hear about the fictional soft heart under his cold robotic layers. He wants him to <em> get out of his sight</em>, he wants Jane to <em> shut up</em>, he doesn’t want <em> anything </em> to do with this stupid company and its icy core masked as spongy sweetness, he is <em> SO FUCKING DONE</em>.</p>
<p>It isn’t until they’ve walked out together that John can finally acknowledge his trembling shudders and the ringing in his ears.</p>
<p>A minute passes. Then two.</p>
<p>John picks up his backpack. His blue hoodie hanging from the coat rack. His phone? …no.</p>
<p>After a pointless look out the doorway, John walks past the reception buried in his blue fleece hood, taps his foot nervously in the elevator down, rushes through the lobby and out the front door without ever looking back once.</p>
<p>And that might be the end of the story.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...sorry it ends up sorta sad as well. :( But at least there's cute and dumb in it, possibly even some catharsis. ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double update this week, once again! Click through, go on &gt;:3</p><p><b>Trigger warnings</b> for this chapter: (very vague) suicide ideation, (very brief) suicide mention.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>And that’s that, apparently.</p><p>Dirk’s following week is mostly uneventful, finishing up commissions and designing new projects while getting as little sleep as possible in-between work jams. At some point, though, he realizes he has to do something else, because he’s just tapped on his cabinet to open it. Curse the human body’s need for rest.</p><p>So Saturday he decides to actually do something different and makes a quick trip to the grocery store to buy something junky to eat and some light booze to erase the edges of his consciousness while he watches some dumb parody of <em> Pan’s Labyrinth  </em>by a group of broke ass Film students on TouYube. </p><p>They’re making some cracky joke about having an eye on your hand when his chat pings with a message from Roxy.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tipsyGnostalgic has begun messaging timaeusTestified –-</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="roxy">TG: heeeey dirky ;D</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Hey, Rox. What’s up?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: nothing speshal</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: how bout u</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Enjoying the best the Internet has to offer.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: And although I say that sarcastically, comparatively, a low budget satire of a ‘cult’ movie is one of the most fruitful, innocent things you can find in this virtual no-man’s land, content-wise.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: word</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: im glad 3 see ur fiving urself a rest tho</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: sometimes u spend so much time cooped up over ther i worry ur gonna have a heart attack or something and we wont even hear about it</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *2</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *giving</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *there goddamn those are lotsa typos</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Have you been drinking?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: dirkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk have a lil faith in meeee</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: im only tired thats all</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: school been eating my ass raw</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Colorful.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: oh cmon were both adults here</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I guess so. It doesn’t make talking to my little sister about sexual matters, metaphorically or not, any less unappetizing, though.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: lmao yeah ok fair</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: btw dirk ive been meaning to ask u somethin</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yes?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: remember that party we crashed a few weeks ago?</span>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Shit </em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I had assumed you’d been invited, but yeah, I remember. What about it?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: hahaha no im just kiddin we were on the list yeah</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: anyway after jade snatchd me away 2 da dance floor i went to grab some dirnks</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *drinks</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: and i saw u talkin to egbert</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: it was dark n shit but i wasnt drunk n he was still where wed left him so im p sure it was him</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: so r u guys friends now or what</span>
</p><p> </p><p>God damn it. It seems the subject of John Egbert cannot be kept away from his mind for long. Dirk takes a deep breath, carefully measuring his words. What does Roxy know about that night? What has she heard about them?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Believe me, Roxy, when I say I would rather die a slow, humiliating, agonizing death than befriend John fucking Egbert.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I was merely asking where was the bathroom.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: that didnt seem like it but if u say so</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: What brought this on?</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: idk dude i was just curious</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: the onyl friend of urs i know is jane</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: i bet u dont raelly talk 2 jake anymore 2</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *only *really</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: so i thought it could b that u give egbert shit ab what happened to rose but maybe all this time u just wanted to b his friend? ;D</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: ooooooooooooooor maaaaaaaaybe</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: omg dirk do u have the hots for john??????? :000000000000</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Don’t be ridiculous, Roxy. I have standards, you said it yourself.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: bluh u can be such a balloon popper sometimes</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: besides hes not that bad</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: u know their breakup was a mutual deicision right</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *decision</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: ive spoken 2 rose enough times 2 know she doesnt give a f ab that anymore</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: theyre actually p good friends even</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: ur the only one thats still hung up ab that n u werent even in the relationship</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I can’t believe I lived enough to see the day I would get lectured about my twin’s ex-boyfriend by my kid sister. Youngsters these days.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: oh shush u shady goof</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: u know im right</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: also were just 4 yrs apart its not that deep bro</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Four years make one hell of a difference. One day, you’ll understand it.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: sure grandpa now go back 2 ur hydroginmastics</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: *hydrogimnastycs</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: **hydrogymnastics</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: shit thats one hard mf word 2 write</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I’ll give you a dictionary next Christmas.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: xP</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: srsly tho</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: u and egbert both have a weird ass sense of humor</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: methinks ud b good friends</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I’ll take your thoughts under advisement.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Just kidding, I’m throwing them into the incinerator.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: the same 1 u used 2 “accidentally” burn jakes pics?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I have no idea what you’re talking about.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: lol</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: aight dirkie imma go back to homework ugh</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Don’t think too hard, airhead.</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: bluh bluh screw u 2</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: luv u big bro</span><br/>
<span class="roxy">TG: c ya ;*</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Good night, Roxy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tipsyGnostalgic has ceased messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I love you, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Dirk falls forward and plants his forehead on the desk. Wonderful, now it seems <em> more </em>people are under the illusion that he’s in cahoots with Egbert. And here he’d been convincing himself that whole ordeal was over. Fuck.</p><p>He just hopes Roxy buys it and doesn’t bring it up again. She’s got an infuriatingly precise intuition, similar to Rose’s witchcrafty séance.</p><p>After a few minutes in silent discussion with himself, Dirk sits up. The movie doesn’t seem that interesting anymore, and he wishes he had more booze.</p><p>Whatever. He guesses he’ll just go back to working.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Good morning, John!</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Is everything okay? Kate told me you missed the morning shift today.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: If you need a break, I can stop by your house to pick you up for lunch and we’ll turn in together. How does that sound? :B</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Oh, I almost forgot! I will be leaving on a business trip the day after tomorrow, so this would be a nice chance to catch up to our gossiping in person before you end up forgetting how I look like, hoho!</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Anyhow, I haven’t got much time for my lunch interval, though, so let me know if you’re up to it!</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: John?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Where are you?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: You didn’t reply, so I came anyway, but no one appears to be home. Are you okay? Are you safe?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Let me know when you read this, my dear. I’m starting to get worried.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I love you. Please take care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: John, what is going on???</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I’ve talked to everyone at work and nobody’s seen you since last week!</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Is there something going on? Are you sick?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: You can tell me what the matter is, sweetie, you know that, don’t you?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I’m terribly sorry I’ve been away so often as of late, but I am still your sister. You can count on me for anything, Johnny.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Please ring me when you can, or even just send me a text message telling me you’re okay. I’m worried.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Love, Jane.</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: John, I’ve spoken to your friends. They say they haven’t heard from you in weeks.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Our shared Netmix account tells me you’ve been accessing it from your house. I would stop by if I could, but I’m afraid negotiations are taking a tad longer than planned.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I don’t know what else to do in my distress but to pray you are well.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Please, please phone me, okay?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I love you, John. Please be safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gardenGnostic has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jade">GG: john!!</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: where the hell are you??</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: weve been trying to get ahold of you forever!!</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: did you turn off your freaking phone??</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: augh!!</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: were worried, john :(</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: no ones talked to you in over a week</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: and you havent even been to work??</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: janes starting to really freak out!!</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: i can tell youre not offline JOHN EGBERT</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: so please :(</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: you know you can tell me whats happening to you</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: whatever it is, john</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: ...</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: is this really about that AWFUL strider??</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: some people have been talking</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: mostly roxy</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: ugh!! i hate him!!</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: i swear i could just... shoot him!!</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: but we can talk anyways john, im here for you no matter what happened and you know that</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: you better know that!!</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: i love you :)</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: and im always here for you no matter what</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: and bec misses you!!</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: please call or message asap</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: we just want to know youre ok :(</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: ...</span><br/>
<span class="jade">GG: augh!!</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gardenGnostic has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tentacleTherapist has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p><span class="rose">TT: Hello, dear John.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I hope this unwanted virtual communication finds you well.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: As you can presumably imagine, I have been tasked with the mission of reaching out to you in this your potential hour of need.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I helpfully informed them of the fact that you wouldn't answer, but what's the will of one to do against the smothering communal love of a concerned familial unit and its adjacent individuals. There are powers that cannot be fought against.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: And so I have resolved to acquiesce and tend to you the utmost sincere hand of support and assistance.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Despite knowing full well that you have no desire for it nor will accept it at this time.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I had to, John.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: In lieu of being unjustly blamed by the whole HarleyCrockerEnglishBert clan for their simultaneous stroke at your mysteriously persistent absence.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Plus at least one Strider.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: They worry, John. They can't help it, but I'm sure you are aware of this.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Your sudden lack of capacity to give, pardon my frustrated language, a royal fuck, is what I find most concerning and alarming.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: You need help, John. Maybe not yet, maybe not from me, but you most certainly need it.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I would be glad to momentarily relapse back into my therapizing addictions for this special occasion.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: And of course, for a good old friend, I'll be happy to prorate my fee.<br/>
</span> <span class="rose">TT: ...</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I can see I won't get through to you with my kind of humor.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: If you even are reading this.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: You aren't, are you.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Alright.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna allow myself one rare instance of melodrama in my correspondence.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: SIGH.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: John. We've been through a lot, you and I. Together.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: But I'm going to correctly assume you currently don't need the twist of the knife that would be the reminiscence of our former private life's details.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I can graciously spare you those.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: There's an important reason I'm making a point of mentioning them, however.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I wonder to what degree you are aware of how well I truly know you.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Because I know you, John.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I know you better than you'd like to hear acknowledged.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Regrettably, I might know you better than you know yourself at present.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: We will discuss it only when you're ready, nevertheless.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: But we will discuss it, John.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: You must be aware that I'm the person to commune with on this particular flavor of turmoil.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Especially if you want to avoid being harangued by mindless interrogation from less, quoting my dear younger brother, "woke" individuals.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Even if a little dissection of your psyche is an inevitable part of the process.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Old habits die hard, I suppose.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I hope to hear from you soon.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: May you go through this internal commotion as painlessly as possible.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I suggest you accelerate matters by opening up a line of communication with my brother.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: You know perfectly well which one I mean.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Farewell, John.</span></p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tentacleTherapist has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- turntechGodhead has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">TG: yo egbert</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: my main dude</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: whatup</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: lately youre harder to find than affection in a stepmothers heart man</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: which you know is like literally never fucking there no matter how hard you look grovel or make endearing mothers day art with macaroni and glue on construction paper</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: you wanna fool yourself and think youre starting to break through but its time to wake up and smell the java my man you will never find it if it was even there to begin with</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: got lost like it wandered into the desert with no water and an armful of peyote and was never seen again</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: dude went to vegas with a plan and a budget in its level head and hope for the future in its heart</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: fell lower than an octogenarians scrotum at a ball stretching lemonparty and now needs a serious fucking intervention</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: lost its shirt at the casino tables and even its nasty ass underwear its vegas you can literally do that</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: goddamn desperate fool lost even its kids milk money</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: excuse me these are fucking food stamps for baby formula where do you think you are you deadbeat</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: im at a seedy casino in vegas tryna bet my saddest possessions i just need that one break then i can buy back my house from the bank my kids love and get my naggin wife that vacation at disneyland shes always wanted its her fuckin dream man shes gonna leave me for the mailman</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: oh right sorry i forgot i was a croupier at the strip yeah man of course well take your fucking welfare coupons this is what we do basically</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: hell when you lose that because you will cause thats how this sucker game works you can put out right here for an extra roll of the cards</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: gay for pay except its gay for chips</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: ok no gay for chips is unsettling like someone might be desperate enough to get their asscherry busted for a fucking snack</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: and you know this has already happened out there man theres literally some dude right now somewhere sucking dick for a goddamn candy bar</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: this fucking world we live in egbert</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: yo man come on are you there or what</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: everyones shitting their pants man what the fuck</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i cant even get your hot sister off my ass</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i mean your sister off my ass</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: fuck</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: just your sister, not off my ass, off somewhere fucking else</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: off the throbbing fucking lump over my thyroid aka the fucking PAIN IN MY NECK</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: shits bad john the oncologist says we need to operate and i have no fucking insurance</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: plan b is chopping around blindly with the nearest sharp utensil but its my fucking neck so id rather explore any other options available tbh</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: but i guess if its plan b thats the second best possible plan so im screwed</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: unless this alphabet based plan framework is monumentally flawed</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i mean can i at least hear plans c thru z they cant be worse than chopping into my neck with a butchers knife</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: its a new hardcore form of neckin you wouldnt know cause you never get laid</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: its obscene how the bitches line up to savor my tasty neck flesh john im telling you shits whack</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: all salivating at my tissues like fucking maniacs</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: you seen world war z thats like nothing compared to these fucking davefreaks</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: yeah they got a fanclub now</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: hey</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: u there</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: jonathan margaret egbert i stg</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i have half a mind to sic my witch sisters creepyass powers on you</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: do you wanna wake up in the morning and pirouette right off the fucking bed and out the window cause theres an astral projection of rose sitting at your feet with an angry deadass ghostly glare boring into your ungrateful soul</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: john</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: fuck you john what the actual shit man</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: at least tell us how you managed to get yourself killed</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: did you klutz down the stairs and break your spine</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i warned you about stairs dog</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: did you do it as a tribute to me and my creative genius</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: thats how i wanna die</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: yeah doing a tribute to my own artistry you understood perfectly well</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: man if you did it im gonna have to cry both a tear of sadness and a tear of pride at your stupid funeral what am i made of tears over here</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: its ok i got ya man ill bring a slimer cake and stuff a fistful lovingly in your twisted spine ass corpses mouth as a goodbye</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: and as a sign of respect obvs</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: make you go with a mouth full of mucus colored frosting like a fucking champ</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: john ffs answer your goddamn messages wtf</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: you know i can do this for basically ever i do it already with no purpose or endgame this is nothing a regular tuesday for me you know me egbert</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: fuck</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: come on</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: say something dude</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: im gonna be so fucking pissed if youre actually ignoring me</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: john</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: jooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: ohn</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: shit</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i gotta work egbert its the only reason imma stop pestering you</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: holy shit if something actually happened to you i swear im gonna fucking kill you</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: just</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: please</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: man</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: if youre there</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: just call somebody ok</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: ill try ya later again</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: bye john</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- turntechGodhead has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">TG: you absolute dick</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- turntechGodhead has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>There are not a lot of people Dirk holds close to his metal, automated heart, but the ones that do manage to reach that point are in for the long haul, even if they don’t want that. They know that.</p><p>Probably.</p><p>Which is why, even though it outright exasperates him, the blond gets it, he really does, that Jane and Roxy are pushing him towards John and/or vice-versa because they somehow like him and think he needs ‘friends’. He just needs to find a way to clear it up or at the very least live it down and wait for this whole thing to blow over.</p><p>Dirk wonders what their reaction would be if he actually told the truth about what happened. ‘Jane, I brutally fucked your brother because I snapped. Twice.’</p><p>Yeah, he’s shutting that thought process down.</p><p>
  <em> Ping! </em>
</p><p>…Or not.</p><p>He realizes he’s been zoning out on the worktable when his cell phone goes off while on mute, which means it’s important. The blond takes off his stained gloves and grabs the device with a frown.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has begun messaging timaeusTestified --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Dirk, are you there?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I need to ask you something.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yeah. What is it?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: It’s John.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pinches his nose. What now?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: What about him?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: You haven’t been in touch with him either?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: No, not lately. Why?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Oh goodness… I was hoping you would have caught wind of him, but I guess it was the least probable alternative after all.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Is there something wrong?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: He hasn’t come in for work for over a week now. No one can get ahold of him, either, not even your siblings.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: He’s had his introverted bouts before, but never as drastic as this.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I’m starting to get seriously distressed. I’m not in town right now, but I’m considering calling off the negotiations and booking a flight home this evening.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Where are you right now?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Bordeaux, France.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Well shit.</p><p>His fingers hover over the keys for a few seconds before he decides to do something he’s definitely going to regret before he can think twice.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Go deal with your clients. I’ll go check on John.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I’ve tried it before I took off. He’s not answering the door, either.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know how it goes later.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Oh Dirk, thank you so much!</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Is there anything I can do for you in turn?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: You don’t need to, but if you must, bring me some choice coffee beans from Europe.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Of course!</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Alright, I’m going to stop by his house. I’ll check in with you later.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: See you, Jane.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Talk to you later, Dirk. Again, thank you. This means a lot.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Don’t mention it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has ceased messaging gutsyGumshoe --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>The cell phone drops to the table with just a little more force than necessary. Its owner holds his head in his hand. Why the <em> fuck </em>does he put himself through this?</p><p>Oh, right, because he’d jump in front of a fucking moving train for Jane.</p><p>Dirk takes a minute-long sigh and gets up, dusting himself off. He wasn’t planning on a bath or going out today, but isn’t life just a pretty little box of shitty surprises?</p><p>He gets ready and pulls on his gloves with an air of finality. If he gets to John’s house and the fucker isn’t at the very least in a comatose state, he’s going to kill him. Speaking of which…</p><p>Dirk grabs his handy, customized Swiss knife and pockets it along with his phone. This time, he’s not riding on such high adrenaline, so he pulls on his leather jacket, grabs his helmet and takes his motorbike to Jane’s brother’s place.</p><p>Perfect residential areas such as John’s make his skin crawl. The bubbly sort of illusion they live under gives them a false sense of security that Dirk wouldn’t be able to stand for one second. Along with that comes a repulsive idea of community that only exists on the surface and serves to perpetuate dumb stereotypes and all sorts of prejudiced standards.</p><p>Anyway, fuck that. Dirk slows down and swiftly parks on the grass driveway, behind John’s car. So he’s supposedly home, huh.</p><p>The blond looks into the window. There’s no one in sight, but with the loud roar of his engine, the guy must be aware of his presence, even if he might not know it’s him. Should he try the front door, then? Again, it’s the suburban paradise or something.</p><p>That entrance is locked, though, surprisingly. Dirk rounds the house and finds something much more promising. There’s a back door with two tall glass panes and a key shoved in the lock. Wow, John, excellent job in keeping someone out.</p><p>Someone other than Dirk, maybe. He elbows the glass, shoves his arm inside and unlocks the door, stepping inside while the shards are still falling, then closes it once again. There’s not even an alarm?  Jesus, they sure came from different neighborhoods.</p><p>As he dusts himself off, the blond looks around, trying to listen for movement. By now, John should definitely know someone’s come inside, if he’s really here. If he isn’t, well… a burglar came in and took nothing. That’s really all there is to say on the matter.</p><p>He warily walks into the kitchen. There’s a pile of dirty dishes on the sink and table, some dead plants in the corner. When he looks beside the door, he sees the phone’s off the hook. Figures.</p><p>Alright, then, let the Egbert hunt begin.</p><p>Dirk doesn’t bother calling out. If anything, John might actually run away from him. It doesn’t take long, however, because he hears the sound of glass clicking coming from the same floor and looks for the only other door in the living room (what the fuck is with the harlequins?).</p><p>Oh wow.</p><p>He steps into what seems to be a study, there’s even a goddamn piano in the room. It’s dark, the window partially obscured, but he can make out a slumped figure over the desk, surrounded by bottles of liquor. Is John having an early middle age crisis? Isn’t he like twelve or something?</p><p>Okay, nevermind, that’s not a good thought to have when you’ve had your dick in said person before. Dirk pulls out his phone and rings Jane over the internet.</p><p>“Yeah, Jane? John’s fine. He’ll talk to you soon. See ya,” he hangs up as soon as she confirms to have heard it. Then, he crosses his arms and sighs. Irritation pricks in the back of his mind. “Decided to take a surprise vacation?”</p>
<hr/><p>Sitting on the floor in the study, John leans back against the wall, looking hazily through the narrow neck of his almost-empty white trash generic bottle of bourbon, and uninterestedly wonders if he can sink any lower.</p><p>Lower than… an old man’s balls in Vegas? Was that it? Yeah, he’s read it. Finally. He guesses. Whatever.</p><p>Self-isolation has no point if you let everyone keep pestering you, and as he suspected from the start, reading Dave’s message just made him feel even worse. All of them, really.</p><p>He knows Jade cares about him, and somehow that doesn’t seem to steep in him enough to change anything.</p><p>He knows Dave is worried. It’s just making him feel anxious and guilty and worse. Among other Dave-related bad feelings.</p><p>He has no idea what Rose is even talking about. Like, at all. </p><p>And then there’s Jane, his overenthusiastic, well-meaning sister. He has no idea why that mental image is so disheartening. And. That’s everyone.</p><p>Almost inadvertently, his dizzy head twists up to look at the picture of his late father on the shelf.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em> Would things even have been any different? Would he have grown to be a more well-rounded, stronger man? Could he possibly be proud of him right now? Why isn’t Jane sad? </em>
</p><p>Before he knows it, the partially empty bottle has flown out of his hand and towards the frame, thankfully (or not?) missing it completely and smashing against the wall, exploding and raining chunks of glass and sticky droplets of whiskey all over the room.</p><p>…</p><p>John’s shoulders drop even further down. <em> I’m sorry. It’s not you I hate. </em></p><p>…</p><p>There’s an endless frozen moment, where he just considers the sharp shards of glass that have landed all around him.</p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>…it’s ok. He has more booze bottles on the desk.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>!</p><p><em> Was that a distant noise inside his house?  </em>John doesn’t muster the energy to care enough to unstick his face off the desktop. Probably a raccoon or a salamander anyway. Whatever.</p><p>…what really finally perks him up is a quiet presence sending a chill down his spine. He snaps his head up, thankfully only drooling the smallest amount possible in his current state, and stares (or tries) at the stern silhouette leaning against the doorway,  almost completely out of focus. </p><p><em> Shit</em>. Dirk fucking Strider. <b>Again</b>. Hell only keeps getting better and better.</p><p>He finally manages to register the blond’s question.</p><p>“Yeah, a vacation. A fucking permanent one.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Yeah, that certainly sounds like the way life works,” Dirk snorts, sweeping the room with his eyes. There are glass shards scattered in a pattern that matches the stain on the wall. His gaze finds the portrait of who he assumes is their late father.</p><p>Jane had told him about it, of course. He’d offered whatever constipated support he could provide back then, but the woman had assured him she’d be fine. Apparently, though, John had been more injured from that blow.</p><p>Was that it? Is he sad about his dad? So he decided to throw a tantrum and isolate himself in his own house?</p><p>Jesus Christ. Fucking kids.</p><p>Dirk steps closer and takes a bottle to inspect it. It’s pretty heavy on alcohol. “How long have you been drinking for? You need to sober up before talking to Jane.”</p>
<hr/><p>“<b><em>Fuck off, Dirk.</em></b>" It comes out of him with surprising violence, considering he’s slurring and every muscle in his body feels weak. “I don’t want to talk to Jane, or <em> you</em>. And I for sure don't want to sober up, that much should be obvious.”</p><p>After talking towards the desk, he manages a glare up to the man towering over him, and a stab of anger ignites his nerves, surprisingly energizing. <em> This condescending prick. </em></p><p>“<em>You </em> should be one to give people advice." He huffs. "Leave me the fuck alone.”</p>
<hr/><p>The way John is acting has Dirk wanting to tell him he’s grounded and not allowed to go to prom. He might still do it if John gets to the point of stomping his feet. Dirk wouldn’t put it past him.</p><p>For once, though, the blond doesn’t feel like the angriest person in the room, even if the brunette’s defensive aggressiveness doesn’t really faze him. “I will, once your brooding ass assures Jane you’re not dead so she doesn’t have a fucking heart attack.”</p><p>Without expecting him to cooperate, Dirk walks up to the window and opens it fully. Then, while John curses a whole sailor’s glossary at him, he goes to the kitchen to grab a cup of water from the sink, which raises his annoyance a few ticks because he has to fucking <em> wash </em> one and he hates the idea that he’s <em> washing Egbert’s dishes</em>.</p><p>He strolls back into the study and sets the glass down beside him, shoving aside the liquor bottles. “Drink up.”</p>
<hr/><p>John eyes the glass of water suspiciously like it might bite him, then turns his blurry gaze back up to the Strider without moving a muscle, arms crossed in clear rejection of this ridiculous intervention. Also, much calmer.</p><p>It’s incredible how focused his brain can be when it’s not being crowded with goofy thoughts. Even if it’s currently pickled in a gallon of cheap booze.</p><p>He’s clearly not gonna get anywhere this way. He needs to take a more mature approach.</p><p>“I would really fucking appreciate it if you didn’t patronize me.” Slow and unsteady, he manages to stand up without toppling over, while leaning on the desk heavily. At least he can look Dirk in the eye to talk. Sort of.</p><p>“While I truly <em> appreciate your concern very much</em>,” the sarcasm is almost caustic “and Jane’s, I’m not gonna bend to whatever either of you want me to do. I’m done being jerked around. You can’t. <em> Fucking</em>. Tell me. What to do. So <b>back the fuck off</b> you hypocritical repressed asshat!!”</p><p>Ok, well… that half-worked. Kind of.</p>
<hr/><p>Dirk is back to crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He looks down his nose at John. “Those are some deep words you’re tossing around. I’m surprised you can pronounce them.”</p><p>Then, to prove his point, he gives a hard prod at John’s chest with two fingers, throwing off the guy’s balance so he’ll topple back down again.</p><p>“So this is what you choose to do instead of being jerked around? Your idea of liberty involves making the people that care about you worried sick while you replace your blood with booze?” His voice is getting more charged with irritation. “How do you expect me to not patronize you when you’re acting like a fucking child? Your life is not only your own, asshole.”</p>
<hr/><p>John staggers and falls back into the chair with almost no impulse, and he feels weak once again. Or maybe he was just too numb from alcohol to properly feel it, because the spot where the blond pushed him is throbbing a little.</p><p>“Yeah, right,” he snorts “my life has been everyone else’s but mine this whole time. I’m just putting my foot down this time and taking it back.” It's almost surreal to hear that sentence come out of his own mouth, and for a second he's even more disoriented.</p><p>Exhausted, he lays down his arms on the desk and rests his chin on them, deflating again. The <em> if I manage to stop drinking myself to death and get off my ass </em> is implied.</p><p>“Why do you even care, Dirk. I know you don’t.” His drunken half-lidded eyes open wider for just a moment with realization. “Oh, right. Jane.” He shrugs, looking more defeated than even before this whole conversation started. “You know, I never quite got your relationship with her.”</p>
<hr/><p>As John settles down a little, Dirk turns to pace around the room. He runs his fingers on the top of the piano, focusing on that piece of furniture instead of the bizarre décor of the study. The harlequin figures are unsettling even to him.</p><p>“What’s there to ‘get’? We’re friends. Is that so hard to conceive?” He looks out the window.</p>
<hr/><p>John turns around in the chair, with some difficulty, managing not to plop off it and onto the floor by some miracle, to look back at the blond.</p><p>“Come on, you gotta know what I mean. She’s so relentlessly upbeat and cheerful, so incombustibly enthusiastic,” he’s still not sure why his voice sounds so bitter about it, “and you are… I don’t know.” The brunette turns back around to rest his chin on his fisted hands on the table.</p><p>“It’s just kinda shocking that you would… click with each other so well.” His ocean blue eyes dart left and right with unidentified disquiet and uneasiness.</p>
<hr/><p>The blond snorts. “I wouldn’t describe her as ‘upbeat’. I think you’re only seeing one side of her.”</p><p>He doesn’t acknowledge the feeling of disappointment from John’s dismissal of his opinion on himself. That’s because he doesn’t give a shit what this blob of gloom thinks of him.</p><p>With a sigh, Dirk turns back and leans against the wall beside the desk. He distractedly notices a fedora hanging from a coat rack. “Jane’s clever and ambitious, something that was pretty rare at the school we attended. I can tell you how we met, if that might clear up your perception of our relationship. But first, please do enlighten me, John. What do you think ‘I am’?”</p>
<hr/><p>The wobbly brunette twists around to frown at the Strider, completely confused by his sudden sharp tone.</p><p>“…reserved? Aloof? Excruciatingly complicated?” he sighs, absent-mindedly. “Just… seems like her intensely chipper side would bother someone like you, I dunno,” he shrugs “but I guess people who are so ridiculously different are the ones that… complement each other… for some reason.”</p><p><em> Like you and Dave, </em>he hears his traitorous inner voice say, and John shakes his head like he’s trying to exorcise that thought clean off his mind.</p><p>…that’s just it though. <em> Dirk </em> said it. Jane is clever and ambitious. Jane is <em> driven</em>. Jane has always gone for the jugular, Jane has never let anything stop her in her tracks. All things he’s missing and right now are making him feel revolting. Revolted. Either way.</p><p>“Whatever, it’s… nothing. Forget it. I’m just blind drunk.”</p><p>As if to contradict his words as fast as possible, he starts reaching for one of the bottles still on the desk.</p><p>“Ok, yeah. I’d like to hear how you two met.”</p>
<hr/><p>"...Not always," Dirk muses, but provides no further insight.</p><p>Because of John's alcohol-impaired dexterity, the blond sees his move coming from miles away. He grabs the bottle and switches it out for the glass of water, pushing it an inch closer to the brunette as passive-aggressive encouragement.</p><p>"When I was still in highschool, I had to change schools, so I no longer had Rose around to hang with. Because of that, I didn't interact much and just generally went about my business." Dirk stops to stare down at the water glass, quirking an eyebrow to signal his condition to continue.</p><p>"One day, for some goddamn reason, Jane came up to me and said she was running for student council and wanted me as her campaign manager. At first I turned her down because I had no interest in that kind of shit and someone like me probably wouldn't help her image."</p><p>He looks at the portrait on the wall as he continues. "But she told me she'd seen me stick gum on my chair so no one would steal it and therefore concluded my -- and I quote -- 'mischievous misdoings' could be used for 'good', as in, 'in her favor'."</p><p>"I thought that was a... peculiar approach," Dirk chuckles. "After that, we started spending more time together."</p><p>The blond exhales. "We were already friends when she got the news about your dad." He finally looks down again. "Sorry about that, by the way."</p>
<hr/><p>Giving the glass of water a tentative little sip and deciding it’s not the worst thing in the world, John thinks that story is actually kinda sweet. Not that he’d admit it out loud, not that Dirk would ever want to hear it admitted out loud, so <em> shut the fuck up</em> <em>bourbon mouth.</em></p><p>“That’s… nice. You know, she loves you.”</p><p>That… works??</p><p>“Yeah Dirk, your parents dying on you is sad, you got that. Thanks though” he adds reluctantly. And then, “well, I guess not <em> any </em> parent dropping dead would be a bad thing”, quite mindlessly, and shrugs. “It’s ok, really. It’s been… long. I’m not mad about <em> that</em>.”</p><p>John swirls the water around like a glass of fine cognac. Or like a bratty dick. “Tell you what, I’ll down the stupid mountain spring juice if you answer me one question.” He brings it closer to his mouth with a meaningful, dramatically raised eyebrow. Then asks:</p><p>“…why the hell did you want to keep that stupid chair so bad?!” With bright amusement in his deep blue eyes, he laughs way too loud for a quiet vanilla suburban neighborhood.</p>
<hr/><p>Deep down, after years of convincing, Dirk is aware that his friends like him. He just doesn't really get why. So, hearing John, someone he just recently got to interact with for more than five minutes at a time, saying Jane, his best friend, loves him is... uncomfortable.</p><p>Also...he knows about their father, then. Well yeah, he's even met him, but does he <em> know </em>about him? The things he did to Rose, Dave, Roxy?</p><p>
  <strike>The things he did to Dirk?</strike>
</p><p>When the brunette bargains with another question, the blond tenses up, bracing for something overly personal and already thinking of a block.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>John's expression and laughter reek of inebriation, but this level of banter doesn't make Dirk want to punch him. What do you know, huh.</p><p>He huffs. "It had the perfect advantage point for the air conditioner and the whiteboard view. The fucker who stole my place didn't even look at the board and always wore three layers of clothes. It was only fair." Dirk shrugs. "Besides, he only actually sat down on it once. That was a fun afternoon."</p><p>Dirk sighs deeply and taps the desk. "Now bottoms up, Egbert."</p>
<hr/><p>At Dirk’s explanation of his high school shenanigans John snorts, completely entertained.</p><p>“Has anyone told you, Dirk, that you can be kind of…” he shoots him a lopsided smirk that’s like 80% overbite. “…goofy?”</p><p>As per their agreement, John gulps down the glass of water and hisses like he just throated a whole bottle of pure grain alcohol. Truth be told, he’s starting to feel a little nauseous.</p><p>“<em>That was a fun afternoon? </em> ” he repeats in confusion, but he loses track of that immediately, looking back up at the blond, with eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. In his strangely mellow drunken voyage John feels like he suddenly <em> perceives him, </em> like he just saw and communicated with the man leaning against his wall for the first time ever. Strange, because he’s been getting drunk off his ass for like a full week and hasn’t had any weird trippy mental elucidations like that until now.</p><p>The brunette blinks up at him, unsure of how long he’s been staring, and feels like he should say something.</p><p>“Uh. Dirk. Thanks for sharing all that shit with me, really. That was cool of you.”</p><p>When he feels the blond’s gaze pull away from him, he guesses things are about to get uncomfortable again. It was nice meeting you, Dirk?</p>
<hr/><p>When John’s face splits into a grin, Dirk gets harshly pulled into the feeling that this got undesirably personal. Especially when the idiot calls him <em> goofy</em>. He retracts into his mind. </p><p>“No one at all, ever,” he replies, despite that being Roxy’s adjective of choice for him.</p><p>Then, Dirk remembers his objective, since he is now vehemently interested in going back to his apartment. “Yeah. I’m going to get you another glass of water. Can you walk?”</p>
<hr/><p>"Uuh-" John tries to come back into reality from the Land of Deep Drunken Thoughts and Spacing Out, "I can... stand. And I can try walking." He gets up from the chair a little bit easier than last time.</p><p><em> …wait</em>. Why the hell is he doing this?? And <em> why is it only with Strider  </em>that he ends up asking questions like <em> what the hell am I doing  </em>and <em> oh god what in the fuck did I do last night</em><em>?!</em>  John’s now sober enough to gather these coherent thoughts but still drunk enough for them to be uninhibited without his brain trying to repress them.</p><p>“Why are you even doing this, Dirk?” The brunette absentmindedly leans on the man’s upper arm for support. “You could just tell Jane I’m alive, drop me like, in bed with a couple aspirins, and get the hell out of here.”</p>
<hr/><p>Dirk looks down at John’s hand on his arm. That was not what he intended, but fuck it. He steps away from the man, grabbing the glass and heading toward the kitchen again. “What do you suppose I’m doing right now?”</p><p>In the kitchen, he looks around the place. Dirk likes to think he lives in an organized mess, which means that not everything looks neat and pristine clean, but he knows where his shit is and nothing has mold. The same can’t be said about John’s place right now.</p><p>He waits for John to reach the kitchen before handing him the glass once again full of water. Dirk debates on whether the man’s worth his wisdom and saliva. Well, he bitterly supposes John’s already had plenty of at least one of them, so might as well balance it out.</p><p>The blond sighs, leaning on the wall. “Listen, Egbert. I don’t know why the fuck you thought it would be a good idea to disappear on everyone and pump your ass full with alcohol, but this doesn’t fix shit. If this is about your job, why don’t you just fucking quit and find something else to do?”</p><p>He points with his chin to the glass.</p>
<hr/><p>“About my job.” John chortles. That’d be simple, wouldn’t it.</p><p>“Anyway, I already quit, that should be obvious to anyone with half a brain cell. Fuck the bureaucratic mumbo jumbo, no one should be forced to do paperwork with a bunch of cake HR nazis to just fucking <em> leave- </em>” he gesticulates splashing some water around, then remembers what he’s holding, and downs it in one gulp. </p><p>Ugh. His stomach’s feeling like shit.</p><p>“It’s kinda hard to cut everything at its roots with everyone fussing and meddling around you. Besides, I’m pretty fucking depressed Dirk-” all this fucking denial is starting to get ridiculous, he supposes. He also hiccups. “This is a textbook meltdown, what do you want me to fucking say. Want a more detailed analysis, go to Rose.”</p><p>Even though he’s sobering up for the first time in a week of uninterrupted sloshing, he feels wobbly and braces himself with his back to the counter, holding the empty glass against his stomach, nauseous, unstable.</p><p>And he can just <em> feel  </em>those golden orange eyes observing him from behind those ridiculous sunglasses.</p><p><em> Vulnerable</em>.</p><p>“We all hide our weaknesses behind a screen,” he quirks a dark eyebrow suggestively “don’t you think?”</p>
<hr/><p>As the blond listens to John’s rant, he notes with some satisfaction that the man’s actually drinking water. Good. As soon as he can manage a conversation with Jane, Dirk’s leaving.</p><p>He sighs, looking away. What does <em> John  </em>have to be depressed about? It seems contradictory, to say the least, that someone who’s always had people around him to support him is now actually running away from them.</p><p>Some agonizing past therapy sessions of his come to mind. The doctor had said absolutely nothing new to him, apart from some unfitting remarks about his personality and emotions. For him, it was a waste of time, but maybe people like Egbert needed someone else to figure shit out for them.</p><p>Not Dirk, though.</p><p>He’s staring at John when the asshole has the gall to look perceptive, so he shoots his response right back, crossing his arms again. “I think some people have nothing to hide.”</p><p>Now, what to do. Dirk couldn’t be bothered to care for this guy, but if he offs himself, more than one person he cares about will be sad. Emotions happen, sadly, so people will inevitably be swayed by them at some point, but if he can help it, he’ll try to fix the problem before it derails.</p><p>He looks at John from head to toe. He looks like utter shit, in even worse condition than usual. After a drawn-out sigh, Dirk pulls off from the wall and walks over to the fridge. He can’t believe he’s doing this. “Have you eaten?”</p>
<hr/><p>Someone’s getting fucking pissed again.</p><p>(It’s John.)</p><p>Trying to get the distinct aftertaste of denial from the Strider’s words off his mouth, he brings the glass to his lips once more, only to realize that it’s empty. After staring at it with hazy thoughtfulness for a couple seconds, he sets it down on the kitchen counter quietly.</p><p>And now Dirk’s asking him if he’s eaten.</p><p>
  <em> That’s it, isn’t it. </em>
</p><p>That’s what’s been fucking bothering him, he’s never treated John as an equal, always disdainful, or humoring, like an adult would talk down to a child… like he’s nothing. And it’s <em> sickening</em>.</p><p>…except earlier, just for a minute? But so what. Like that’s gonna change anything at all.</p><p>John lurches towards the fridge himself and somehow beats the much more sober man to it, possibly by throwing all of his (limited) body weight against the appliance, if the sound it made when he impacted against it is anything to go by.</p><p>Blocking the fridge door, and pointedly trying to ignore how close their faces have suddenly become, the brunette angrily spits: “Game’s fucking over, Strider. I don’t care if you’re on a mission anointed by my sister, there’s no fucking intervention, you’re not bossing me around in my own house and <em> I am most definitely not calling her  </em>until I decide so.” Holding the blond's hidden gaze with a scowl is more of an instinct than an effort.</p><p>He also deliberately pushes aside the memory that, last time he confronted this man intoxicated, the scales didn’t exactly tip in John’s favor.</p>
<hr/><p>So much for peace.</p><p>Dirk watches with tired exasperation as John flings himself onto the fridge. Yes, that is indeed very mature, Egbert. Congrats.</p><p>Even though the blond is not doing this for John specifically, he can’t help the irritation building from the ungratefulness of this asshole. Should’ve just let him collapse in a puddle of his own vomit.</p><p>The smell of alcohol from the brunette’s mouth further spurs his vice. “Very well. By all means, please do continue your thorough moping around in isolation without providing any clues about your state of mind.”</p><p>“But I’ll tell you this, Egbert,” Dirk’s voice is sharp when he hisses out: “If you decide to end it, make sure not a fucking soul finds your body. Leave no trace behind, pretend you eloped with someone or joined a cult, who knows, go wild. Otherwise, you’re just going to cause <em> more  </em>pain to people who for some unimaginable reason fucking care about your pathetic ass.”</p><p>He’s towering above the man, shoulder scrunched in as he grips the top of the refrigerator. “However, in case you decide to actually live, get your shit together. This is adult life, no one’s gonna coddle you. Get fucking used to it.”</p><p>With that and John’s outburst, Dirk decides he’s had enough. He’s not close enough to care and he’s done perhaps more than he should, even. With one rough impulse on the fridge, he pulls away and walks back to where he entered the house.</p><p>When he’s opened the door to the laundry room, Dirk pauses, then cranes his neck toward John again. “Either tell your sister what’s going on or buck up and deal with it yourself. You want to be a big boy, John, you fucking <em> act  </em>like it.” He turns to the exit and leaves the door open. “And remember, you’re not the only one going through some shit.” </p><p>He kicks the glass aside some more and leaves John’s house.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remember, we're doing a double update again this week, so enjoy also Chapter 8! :D </p><p>Note: Dirk is 22 at the time of this chapter, whereas John is a shocking... 20 years old. xD<br/>==&gt;</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Trigger warning</b> for this chapter: (very brief) suicide mention.</p><p>Enjoy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That… was unexpected.</p><p>…was it?</p><p>Actually, that was the least unexpected thing that happened all day. Shockingly, the rest of what happened is what was abnormal to John’s muddled mind, which is somehow disappointing to boot.</p><p>His body feels like it’s about to shut down, but he refuses to slide down to sit on the floor of his kitchen right after Dirk left him splintered, again. Instead he rests his forehead against the cool fridge, feeling a headache coming on. </p><p>
  <em> Last thing we fucking need is a repeat. </em>
</p><p>It’s good that he didn’t, too, cause he gets almost no processing time to realize he has to suddenly run to the sink and vomit violently. At least it was on the side with almost no dishes in it.</p><p>Still dry-heaving, shaky and weak almost to the point of collapsing on the counter’s edge, all that John can think, despite drinking himself sick and mistreating his body for days, is that <em> that was the last reason that made him throw up. </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em> A quick shower, some shuteye, and a small enough meal (let’s not tempt the fates) can make such a world of difference</em>, John thinks lying on the couch with his tablet resting on his chest. </p><p>Everything still fucking sucks. But he <em> almost  </em>feels like a person again. A person who might eventually start turning things around, and possibly not make everyone around him ill with worry. <em> Cause more pain to people who for some unimaginable reason fucking care about his pathetic ass. </em></p><p>What an egotistical jerk.</p><p>…<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">--ectoBiologist has begun messaging gardenGnostic--</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: hi jade.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i’m fine!</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: sorry i worried you. we’ll talk sometime soon ok?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: …i love you too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">--ectoBiologist has begun messaging tentacleTherapist--</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: hey rose.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i’m doing better.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: thanks for reaching out. you never have to apologize for that.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: we should talk soon.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: maybe not right now, but soon.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: miss you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">--ectoBiologist has begun messaging turntechGodhead--</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: hello, dave.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: you’re looking well today.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: hehehehehehehe</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: that never gets old.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i know when you read this you’re gonna be rolling your eyes so hard.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: but secretly you’ll love it. cause you’re a dork.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i guess what i mean to say is</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i’m sorry i was an inconsiderate douchebag.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i never meant to worry you.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: or shut you out.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i’m really sorry, dave.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: let’s hang soon.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: stream a stupid movie and eat caramel popcorn until we barf.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: hehehehehehehe</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: or maybe not barf. i’ve been doing too much of that lately, or getting close anyway.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i’ll tell you about it later.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: but i’m fine, i promise.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: stop worrying about me being dead.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: but wouldn’t it be rad to have your old pal egbert in ghost form, haunting you everywhere you go??</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: adding ghostly sound to your dj mixes.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: hehehe</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: anyway i’ll talk to you soon.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: see ya, idiot &lt;3</span>
</p><p> </p><p>John tries to take a deep, cleansing breath. It’s crazy, how scary this stupid thing is?</p><p>
  <em> Just do it, you baby. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">--ectoBiologist has begun messaging gutsyGumshoe--</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: hi.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: jane?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: …i’m so sorry.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i promise i’m safe.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: and i love you too.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i need to talk to you. when you can.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i have so much to tell you.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>For the rest of the day and also the next one, Dirk makes an invested effort in evicting John Egbert from his mind. Fuck it, he’s made sure the guy is alive, now that’s his and Jane’s problem. And Dave’s. And Roxy’s. And maybe Rose’s, since she still talks to him. Fuck, why does his family like that tool so much?</p><p>He knows himself well enough to be certain that he can control his thoughts if he so desires, and he sets out to actively do that for the following span of time. By the time he’s home and his computer is on, his anger has simmered down considerably and John Egbert is no longer a point of stress in his mind.</p><p>Until the next day, by the evening, when he still hasn’t heard from Jane. That can be either good or really fucking bad, considering the state John was in. That asshole better not have taken his ‘advice’ seriously. He can’t be <em> that  </em>fucking stupid, can he?</p><p>Dirk waits another day before calling Jane, coincidentally right after he fucks up a circuit board and wrecks his progress on a new project. He uses the pretext of her upcoming birthday to ask when she’s coming back and gauge her response, but never gets to put his plan into action because it goes straight into voicemail. Huh. Well, she’s a businesswoman.</p><p>He tries again in the morning, to no avail. Shit.</p><p>His mind briefly suggests stopping by to see for himself, a thought that absolutely scandalizes him. Dirk refuses to leave his home to see if some loser has kicked it.</p><p>In the afternoon, she calls. She sounds exhausted and says she’s going to ring him soon to sort something out with him about that, but she has things to take care of first. After a quick goodbye, Dirk hangs up and looks at the screen, the numbers 01:35 of the call duration blinking up at him before disappearing.</p><p>Fingers drum incessantly on the desk. Jane thinks they’re friends, he should’ve just asked. Did John tell her something about what he said?</p><p>Whatever. If Dirk hasn’t heard anything about it and Jane isn’t freaking out, the guy must be alive. Probably. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.</p><p>Alright, that settles it. Back to business as usual.</p><p>.</p><p>..</p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Have you called Jane yet?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: We’ve both been busy with work, apparently, so I haven’t had the chance to talk to her lately.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Egbert, I am actually going to murder you if you haven’t spoken to your sister yet.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>It’s been rough. John’s still dragging a long-term hangover from a solid ten days of binge-drinking (probably even going through some withdrawal), but everything’s slowly turning back into place from the giant pile of shit he’s managed to create.</p><p>Talking to Jane has been painful at points but she’s done her best to be his incredibly supportive sister as usual, she always was even when she wasn’t trying, and he feels so thankful for her once again. That does feel good to finally get back (he’s also rather ashamed for forgetting it). There’s been a lot of tough decisions made, work and school, possibly living arrangements… but she’s standing behind him 100% and that’s already an immense amount of support John really didn’t think he’d get to feel again. Or possibly feels like he deserves.</p><p>He still has no shitting idea what he’s gonna do, but. Maybe he’s not supposed to yet. Maybe it’s better to take some time to sort things out before diving into something new and unknown.</p><p>God knows there’s been some seriously destabilizing forces in his life and his psyche lately.</p><p>But hey. It’s all good! He’s managed to more or less sober up, moderately clean up his act (and house, blegh) and made an effort to talk to every single person who cares about him to reassure them he’s really okay. And also to apologize for being an asshat.</p><p>Jane could have gone home but she stayed, right after a week of work abroad and a transatlantic flight, she’s snoozing on the couch just to keep him company. Also probably because she was too exhausted to even get upstairs to her old room, John muses.</p><p>It’s nice.</p><p>He’s sitting at the kitchen table and just opened a photo on his phone back up, one Jade sent him of her and Bec looking happy in the sun, wishing him all their love, and that definitely didn’t make him tear up a little and you can't prove it did. Then his chat app pings, and he’s almost excited to see which one of his friends is chatting him up now. A good sign.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">--timaeusTestified has begun messaging ectoBiologist--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>… ??? fklsdfhjsl;kh,nd?? </em>”  has to be the closest to John’s mental process as a reaction. </p><p>Dirk Strider has to be <em>the most confusing thing</em> present in his life right now. Or possibly, ever, and he’s had some stiff competition (why is it always a Strider… or a Lalonde, he guesses). John doesn’t know where to begin or end with this guy, completely confused about whether to stay away or try to engage, unsure of which one of those things he even <em> wants</em>, and lately, and even more worryingly, of which one the Strider <em> wants with him</em>. Why is everything so intensely polarizing with this guy?? It makes John feel like he’s gonna crawl out of his own skin.</p><p>…it doesn’t even have anything to do with the fact that he fucked him stupid, anymore. Probably. Twice.</p><p>
  <em> And do you even remember what you last said to me? </em>
</p><p>Why do they keep intersecting?</p><p>…</p><p>Why does <em> he </em> keep intersecting <em> him </em>?!</p><p>John’s not sure which one of those pronouns refers to whom.</p><p>…</p><p><b>How is </b> <b> <em>he </em> </b> <b>supposed to get over </b> <b> <em>him </em> </b> <b>like this. </b></p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">--timaeusTestified has begun messaging ectoBiologist--</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Have you called Jane yet?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: We’ve both been busy with work, apparently, so I haven’t had the chance to talk to her lately.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Egbert, I am actually going to murder you if you haven’t spoken to your sister yet.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: uh, yeah??</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: in fact she's here with me, and i just heard her talk to you just a little while ago.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: from my couch.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: so... what??</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: why are you really messaging me, dirk.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Fuck! </em>
</p><p>Shit, he should’ve just asked Jane. Why didn’t she tell him she is back and with John?</p><p>Goddammit.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I meant talk to her in length, about you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>What the actual fuck, Strider.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Not that I talk about you, because I don’t. Ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He physically stops himself from typing. How the fuck is he making this even worse for himself??</p><p>Dirk takes a deep breath. He feels all over the place, so he opens his eyes to focus on a wrench hanging on the wall.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: What I meant to ask is: did you two talk things out?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>John Egbert stares dumbfounded at this collection of words, eyes rapidly darting back and forth, wondering if this is the same brilliantly sharp-witted man he’s had contact with, or someone has actually hijacked his account. For god’s sake, he sounds like Dave. <em> Sorry, Dave. </em></p><p>It’s… a little bit endearing?? And that doesn’t make his <strike>feelings</strike> thoughts on the matter any less confounded.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: uh, we’ve been talking, yeah. everything’s cool.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i mean i apologized for worrying her, but we’ve hashed it out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Not sure why he’s reassuring the jerk who wouldn’t care if he’d killed himself.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: she’s just arrived from france so she pretty much conked out almost immediately, she’s exhausted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Even if it had the opposite effect?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: thanks for checking in though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Huh?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: …how are you doing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> WHAT.</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>The blond has his head in his hand and quirks an eyebrow at the screen. Thank fuck John didn’t press, but now he’s…making conversation?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Good.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Figures, though. I have no fucking idea where the woman gets that much energy from.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>As for the last question… John has proved to be capable of not being a prick when he so desires, and he’s exercising that ability right now. Besides, Dirk still feels… uneasy about their last exchange in person.</p><p>Like fuck he’ll give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing that, though.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I’m doing fine. Nothing out of the ordinary or off schedule.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He glances at his failed prototype, then back to the chat. Yep.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: So, what are you going to do now?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>John hesitates about his next move, still excruciatingly confused but one thing becoming clearer and clearer, and coming to the forefront through the haze in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: listen, dirk.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i know shit got awkward at the end the other day. again.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: but i wanted to say… thanks.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: for checking in with me i guess?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: and sticking around for a while, or whatever.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: you didn’t have to do that. obviously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s hard to stomach his next confession, but here goes nothing. For both of them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: i was… having really dark thoughts before you arrived.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: like… bad.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: lifetime afternoon movie bullshit bad.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: so. yeah. thank you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>John snorts, half-amused and half-frustrated, at the Strider’s very good question.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: i have no fucking idea what i’m gonna do now, to be honest.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: but it can’t be what i was doing before.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i guess figuring all this shit out is part of the plan.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: it’ll be fine, i bet. even if it’s kinda scary.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>John Egbert has some loose screws in his head, Dirk decides.</p><p>He didn’t do it for John. The idiot <em> must </em> know that. That said, why the ever-loving <em> fuck </em> is he <em> thanking </em>Dirk? And why is neither of them angry?</p><p>Fuck forbid he became friends with Egbert. Then again, this is pretty amicable, no matter how you look at it. Shit.</p><p>The blond reads John’s messages and closes his eyes for a second. At least he’s alive. </p><p>Fine, whatever.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Don’t thank me.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: But in case you do want to show some appreciation for not doing something especially dumb,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Work on setting your life straight so it doesn’t happen again. Or that catastrophically, at least.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Having a plan is helpful. You have friends and family on your side, too, so make good use of that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he himself has some loose screws.</p><p>Dirk looks over his chaotic worktable.</p><p>
  <em> Or several. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: John, I want to ask you something. Call it scientific curiosity, if you will.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><span class="john">EB: ok.</span> <span class="john"> i will.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i’m working it out.</span></p><p> </p><p>It’s the best that John can manage, not exactly the embodiment of eloquence on his best day, but right now, partially out of fatigue and part <em> whatever’s strangling his stomach uncomfortably again</em>, he finds himself extra short on words.</p><p>What the hell does he want to ask him? Since when does Dirk Strider even want to know anything about him??</p><p> </p><p><span class="john">EB: ok. please, go ahead.<br/>
</span> <span class="john">EB: for science.</span></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Dirk half regrets asking. But yeah, he'll do it for... philosophical research.</p><p> </p><p><span class="dirk">TT: You told me this is not just about your father or your job.<br/>
</span> <span class="dirk">TT: If that's the case, then what is it that makes you feel bad enough to entertain the thought of dying?</span></p><p> </p><p>His elbows rest on the table, his cellphone between them as he holds his head above it and shakes his leg beneath.</p>
<hr/><p>…</p><p>…what?</p><p>John’s breath catches in his lungs in a way that seems it won’t ever come back out, that strangely abrupt question a leaden pressure weighing down on his heart.</p><p>It’s not… he hasn’t even…</p><p>…</p><p>There are things very hard to put into words, or even concrete thoughts. John Egbert might not have the most explicit and tangible inner discourse, and that tends to make certain notions fly over his head, slip through his cracks, fade into a mist of ungraspable feelings that he never seems to figure out how to materialize. Definitely not enough to articulate them to another person, quite often not even to himself, not in any way that’s clear and intelligible in his mind.</p><p>Dirk Strider, he realizes with a peculiar mix of awe and horror, has had the power to clamp onto those thoughts and feelings and jank them raw right out of him, from the start. John’s eyes dart around the room, his memory desperately trying to zero in on a moment that tells him he’s <em> wrong</em>. Finally, coming up empty. <em> From the very first moment they talked to each other alone. </em></p><p>It’s like being subjected to an emotional vivisection.</p><p>For a long time, his fingers hover shaky over his phone, his blue stare unfocused and lost way past his screen, his face contorted in distress.</p><p>…</p><p>Eventually, with uneven, uneasy breathing, he decides to answer with what he now knows is the truth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: …hating myself.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>John takes so long to reply that Dirk, impatiently tapping alternating fingers on the rubber top of the desk, considers just telling him to forget it. He’s been told several times that he’s not exactly tactful. Maybe he should’ve just dropped it.</p><p>He sits up from his slump over the phone and reclines in his chair, retrieving the device to type out a quick dismissal and goodbye.</p><p>Then, the chat pings with a new message.</p><p>It’s even worse than the long pause, Dirk concludes. Not only does this not tell him what he wanted to know, but it also confirms they’re in sensitive territory, the one the blond is most uncomfortable in.</p><p>Amber eyes trail up to his gloved hands. Even with the protection, some patches of ragged, churned skin are still visible if you’re paying attention. Somewhere in his body, there are some matching ones. And if you squint and come really close, a little further down his fists, there are threads of white in his already clear skin.</p><p>Uncomfortable indeed, but not unfamiliar.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Because of what you think of yourself or because of what you think someone else does?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>The world feels really heavy and exhausting again. This time, it has a distinctly different flavor, however. John is too tired to try and figure out what exactly that is, though. The past few weeks have taken a toll on him.</p><p>When his phone pings again, he looks up wearily from where his head is resting on his crossed arms, and sighs with a hint of sadness when it’s another uncharacteristically personal question that he again doesn’t have the answer to, right off the bat.</p><p>It’s getting to be too much. And right now the last question he has the energy to try and tackle is <em> why</em>.</p><p>…why.</p><p>In an effort to not leave the conversation completely hanging, John absent-mindedly answers:</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: yeah.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: wait what?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i dunno. it’s complicated.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: …sorry, dirk. i’m pretty tired.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: it’s been one hell of a long month.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: if you don’t mind, i’m gonna get some rest now.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: thanks for taking an interest tho.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: see ya soon, i guess?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Like a functional, mature adult, he waits for a response politely, as opposed to throwing the phone across the room. Wow, he feels so different already, much less like a pitiful lost child.</p><p>…not really.</p>
<hr/><p>Of course. What was he expecting? A Rose-level kind of response?</p><p>Dirk feels embarrassment creep up his face as he thinks of something detached enough to provide to end the conversation.</p><p> </p><p><span class="dirk">TT: Yeah, sorry, that was pretty loaded.<br/>
</span> <span class="dirk">TT: Sure. See you around.<br/>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>The screen goes dark the next second and the cellphone is discarded exasperatedly on the table. Next comes the blond when he crosses his arms over the rubber surface and plops his head down on them.</p><p>What the fuck is he doing, what does he want with Jane’s little brother, for fuck’s sake. The sex couldn’t possibly have been so good as to mess with the chemicals in his head, could it? Apparently, hormones are a powerful thing.</p><p>He takes a deep breath. It’s fine. He’ll admit to feeling guilty about telling the guy to disappear if he decided to kill himself. Not everyone shares Dirk’s views on death, as per demonstrated by Jake’s horror when he informed him ages ago that he’d gladly die to save him, if necessary.</p><p>…it does feel like ages ago.</p><p>Speaking of which, wasn’t that idiot going to come by to get his goddamn mail? Whatever bills he had are probably overdue by this point.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has begun messaging golgothasTerror --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Jake, are you still coming for your mail?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I’m pretty sure some stuff is due already.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Oh darn dang it! Im sorry dirk i completely forgot!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Will you be home tomorrow afternoon?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yeah, sure. You remember the apartment number for the intercom, right?</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Affirmative!</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Alright.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: But don’t forget to come, or I’ll toss them. They’re clogging up my desk.</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: Ill make extra sure to show up, then!</span><br/>
<span class="jake">GT: By the by, thanks for holding onto them dirk.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yeah, sure.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: See you tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has ceased messaging golgothasTerror --</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tomorrow comes reasonably fast. That’s what Dirk gets for sleeping more hours than he needs to, he supposes. It’s ten in the morning when he wakes up and starts going about his day.</p><p>Somewhere between eating breakfast and drinking a few consecutive cups of coffee, his mind wanders. As Dirk drifts into autopilot, he thinks on yesterday’s blunder. Why the fuck did he have to ask that? Also, ‘see you soon’? Does John expect to see him again? Or did he mean it as in, ‘we seem to be crossing paths so often lately that it’s likely that we’ll run into each other again soon’?</p><p>It wouldn’t be surprising. They do interact with more or less the same circle of people, after all. Shit, what would Rose say if she knew about all this? He doesn’t want to think about it.</p><p>He gets exercising and cooking out of the way so he can shower before Jake shows up. The last thing he needs is his fucking ex seeing him sweaty and torched from domestic activities. Well, the man’s seen him in worse conditions, Dirk muses. Anyway, sleeping lions.</p><p>The intercom buzzes around three o’clock, when the blond’s engrossed in reading a critical review of a book he’s been meaning to read. Jake is so fucking clueless that he manages to interrupt him even without trying. That thought barely makes sense, but it’s just Dirk’s annoyance talking, he’s aware of it.</p><p>He slips on his shoes and shades, grabs the bundle of envelopes and hops down the steps to the ground floor. Dirk opens the inside door and walks up to the gate, finding a goofy brunette with emerald eyes zoning out while looking at the street.</p><p>“Hey, Jake.”</p><p>The man almost jumps out of his skin, as if he hasn’t come specifically to meet Dirk and instead the blond had just crept up his window. “Dirk! You gave me quite the spook just now. I didn’t hear you approaching.”</p><p>“Didn’t you hear the gate slamming closed, either?” He asks, leaning on the wall.</p><p>“I suppose not!” Jake laughs, running a hand through the hair on his nape. He still looks infuriatingly good.</p><p>It reminds him of the fact that the pest stirring his life lately is related to him. Though they look alike, Jake and John have drastically different vibes. If Dirk had to describe it in few words, he’d say Jake is soft stupid and John is sharp stupid.</p><p>That is, Dirk knows Jake to be a lot less stupid than he acts, which is something that gradually started getting on his nerves. He doesn’t know much about John yet to make a contrasting observation on that aspect. It seems Egbert has benefitted from growing up with Jane instead of Jade, who is yet another member of that family that’s dated a sibling of his. Jesus Christ.</p><p>Not that Dirk is that far off from it, too. What a headache.</p><p>“Dirk? Are you alright?” Jake’s voice brings him to the present again.</p><p>“Sorry, what?”</p><p>The brunette lets out a nervous laugh. “You looked lost there for a bit. Is there something on your mind?”</p><p>As Dirk stares back at his ex, he wonders how Jake would react if he told him ‘your cousin’. Instead of doing that, however, the blond coughs to clear his throat and hands him the letters. “Just tired. Here is your stuff.”</p><p>“Oh!” Jake finally fucking grabs his goddamn mail. “That’s great, thank you kindly!”</p><p>He smiles brightly at Dirk, who just nods in accordance. There’s a dysfunctional moment spanning from that last sentence up to the point the blond peels himself off the wall and dusts himself off. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work. See you around, Jake.”</p><p>“Oh, certainly!” Jake shuffles a little as Dirk opens the gate again. “It was nice seeing you, Dirk.”</p><p>The Strider steps inside and looks back to the oaf smiling at him. Then, he realizes something.</p><p>Dirk doesn’t feel anything.</p><p>Yeah, of course, he has a whole library of feelings about their past relationship and unresolved bitterness about how they ended things and where they stand now. That’s something that will likely never die down.</p><p>What he doesn’t feel is the overwhelming impulse to punch him, or something, or throw him against the nearest wall and kiss him. What he feels is a bit of exasperation, some impatience, at most, and the slightest tinge of associative guilt from what happened between him and John.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>After debating for a few seconds, Dirk even returns a “You too, Jake.” Then, he closes the gate on Jake’s dumbfounded expression and gets back upstairs.</p><p> </p><p>He is so fucked up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="john">EB: see ya soon, i guess?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Sure. See you around.</span>
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  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
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  <span class="john">EB: take care, dirk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Rats. Too slow.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>John examines himself, or his reflection, in one of the mirrored columns at the department store. He’s clean-shaven, well-fed, and looking much better rested than a few days ago, like a shadow of his former drunk, unkempt, eye-baggy self. Good. Also, clean white shirt and dark blue skinnies looking sharp, he guesses, whatever.</p><p>Oh, and he’s wearing a Detective Pikachu hat. It’s just a regular sleuth deerstalker hat with two big dumb yellow and black ears poking out of it. John can’t decide, looking at it, if he loves it or hates it more, and so he deems it <em> perfect</em>. Jane’s birthday gift has been acquired. He also has a small surprise of the less material kind prepared for her later. He rather anxiously adjusts the poster tube that’s hanging behind his back.</p><p>“Ring 'er up.” After paying with a Ghostbusters-themed check, he collects his present, stuffed into one of the store’s more ridiculous bright-colored gift bags that’s sporting an ironic hipster moustache. It’s so dumb, very Jane-oriented though. She’ll love it, he hopes. Yeah, she will. He swears, sometimes he thinks she’s the silliest member of their entire family, and the bar was always set pretty fucking high to begin with.</p><p>Then he hightails it back towards the business district on foot, rushing cause he’s already late and it’s getting dark. On the way, he mentally prepares to see the outrageous giant red fork that constitutes his former place of employment, he’s nervous about stepping back in there and having to see coworkers, especially after the way he left (he allows himself to slightly cringe at the memory) but mostly, he’s jittery about all the party-planning tasks he’s been assigned. And whoever he might need to carry those out with. </p><p>At his arrival at the gigantic three-pronged crimson monolith that is Crockercorp central, he hurries through the lobby, flashing his (former) employee badge at the security gate while desperately trying to not acknowledge any potential funky looks he might be getting. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe not. Who cares. Not John, that’s who.</p><p>Upstairs, there’s a veritable buzz of activity. People come and go setting up decorations, carting food around (so many goddamn pastries) and making themselves busy with assorted party-planning chores. His hand shoots up to nervously adjust his cobalt blue bow tie while looking around the floor, while trying to not look at too many people around him at the same time, somehow.</p><p>And… there’s the two over-enthusiastic trolls in charge of the birthday preparations: Yammer McNubs and Nekogirl, also known as random department chief and assistant. Great, they’ve seen him and are already waving him over. As he heads towards them, he gets ready for an endlessly wordy and mind-numbing tirade, and an overdose of cat puns.</p><hr/><p>Dirk doesn’t know whether to feel flattered or offended to be regarded as the ‘tech guy’ in his social circles and adjacent environments. On one hand, it means they acknowledge him as an expert in the field, whatever that field encompasses in their minds. On the other hand, though, it gives people a certain misplaced sense of entitlement to asking favors.</p><p>As long as the person who asks is close to him, he doesn’t mind, but when it’s an acquaintance, his willingness goes down a few notches. In this particular case, however, even if Dirk cringes just from the sheer grating cadence of Jane’s coworkers’ voices over the phone, he can spare some scarce patience to lend a hand.</p><p>They call him one day to casually invite him to a big surprise party for Jane by enlisting his help in the organization team and asking if, by any chance, he has a sound box to spare. He wonders if they are aware of how purely unnatural that question sounds, but gets the message and agrees to be there early to set up the audio. And the projector? Something tells him that will be used for something really fucking corny.</p><p>Still, he’s caught by surprise. Does her company always do that or are they especially chirpy this year around? Parties aren’t really a welcome event to him and he’d been expecting to celebrate his friend’s birthday more privately, like the two of them always do.</p><p>However, it becomes more and more apparent that dinner at Skaia’s Bar won’t be a possibility this year, so that might be his best chance of celebrating Jane’s birthday with her this year. That said, he’s planning to book it after setting things up. She can send his stuff back later.</p><p>As Dirk finds out, though, the party seems to have a broader involvement than just her employees. Roxy texts him about the party the day before the event, informing him Jade’s invited her to come with. He offers a ride but she already has arrangements. Figures, after that college party and disappearing with the woman’s cousin. Does she even know about what happened? Damn, he’s getting more thrilled by the minute to attend this birthday.</p><p>Never mind, that’s the lesser of his problems. He’s a busy man, so he can’t stay long enough to raise a storm with Harley, anyway. Since his sister is going, maybe he’ll just stay until they cut the cake.</p><p>Besides, there are more important matters to worry about. He hasn’t finished Jane’s gift yet.</p><p>Every year, he gives Jane her present in the most inconspicuous wrapping possible so she knows who it’s from. This year he’s going for the usual sandpaper-colored mail parcel with his chat handle initials on the bottom, in invisible ink.</p><p>Jane doesn’t need to see the hidden writing to piece together whose gift it is, but one of his past presents had been the goofy ‘pen of mystery’ and he’d bought one for himself so they could laugh about other people without anyone finding out. It had been useful back in highschool, before they started practically living online. Nowadays, however, the pens serve more as an easter egg or an inside joke. Dirk thinks Jane agrees that the invisible ink era is done and buried, though.</p><p>After some careful recounting of her last birthdays, he decided on ordering a sleeping mask with a beagle puss print as the first layer. For the second layer, he got her a neck pillow with a horseshoe design. On a more serious note, though, he went after the most efficient noise-cancelling headphones he could find and set out to customize them to match the aqua blue color she favors.</p><p>When the last coat of waterproof varnish on plastic cover is dry, he places them at the bottom of the cardboard box, adds the other items and the cheesiest fucking birthday card he could find (with some skillful additions of his), closes the package, wraps it in about seven layers of duct tape and finishes with that godawful sandy parchment paper. Perfect.</p><p>He goes to sleep for the few hours that remain until he has to get up and head downtown.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>On Friday, Dirk gets up with his mind <em> absolutely fucking empty</em>. It continues to be so as he eats something, takes a shower, dries his hair and gets dressed in a black pair of pants and a dark purple button-down, sleeves folded up to his elbows. He supposes it’s fancy enough for the abundance of a Crockercorp party. After staring at the mirror for a few seconds, already in triangular shades, he opens the top two buttons.</p><p>When he calls a car to get to the Crockercorp headquarters and go up with his gear, he is not thinking about anything. While the secretary smiles at him and asks her to come with him to the spot where they have unraveled the projector screen, he is not looking around the floor for anything in particular. As he plugs cords and tests ports, the blond is definitely, most assuredly not disappointed in being alone.</p><p>When he’s done, he gets up and gives a test run. Yep, a fucking toddler could do this, but a bunch of corporate drones apparently can’t. Not that he would trust them to touch his boosted speakers, though, so maybe they had an inkling about him.</p><p>Dirk is about to look for someone to find out what the fuck he’s supposed to do with himself now when the two ear-abusers stroll by and ambush him. They’re the trolls that spoke to him over the phone, he’s seen them before once or twice.</p><p>“Strider! What a delight that you could make it. I am most certain that Ms. Crocker will be <em> ecstatic  </em>to see you attend her memorable birthday party,” the one with too many words and ASMR voice beams up, clasping his hands in front of his chest. Then, his eyes focus on the parcel under Dirk’s arm and his face falters. “Pray tell, what is that package you’ve brought over there? Would that perchance be Ms. Crocker’s gift? Ah, let me guess, a last minute purchase? It’s actually advisable to give it some thought before proceeding on a transaction, as ¾ of purchases are made on impulse, so I commend you on that, however, we cannot rely on retail store’s good will to provide with adequate wrapping paper for gifts, for example, as some company’s policies regarding courtesies and waste are more strict than others--”</p><p>“It’s fine,” the blond cuts him off, perhaps a little more sharply than intended, given the way the troll jumps. “Jane and I have a tradition going on, she’ll know what this is about.”</p><p>“Ah,” the male troll breathes. His look of restrained contempt makes Dirk’s jaw tighten. “Of course.”</p><p>“Kankri, what’s important is not the exterior, it’s what’s inside!” The blond averts his gaze and it falls on the girl. She has her hair done in two buns that resemble cat ears far too closely not to be purposeful. Her horns match the hairstyle and now that he’s seeing her up close, she has fucking fangs. “Besides, they’re meowrails, they know each other better than we do.” Goddammit, Dirk can <em> hear  </em>the ‘owo’s and ‘:33’ at the end of her sentences, how the fuck is that even pawsible?</p><p><em> Possible</em>. Fuck, it’s contagious.</p><p>“I suppose so,” the snob says, then breathes out a dramatic sigh. Dirk already feels 80% less inclined to listen to this guy just because he intruded on his birthday gift. So far, the odds are in the uwu girl’s favor. “In any case, there are still plenty of tasks that need fulfillment. If you don’t have any…current engagements, I would like to ask you to assist us.”</p><p>“We have to pounce out for a bit. The beverage suppliers for today’s pawty got our order in a twist and we have to hop over there to untangle it.” She’s really pushing the metaphors now.</p><p>“Yes, I’m afraid that is quite urgent. However, rest assured, we have provided a list of which preparations still require conclusion. I reckon you’re familiar with John Egbert?”</p><p>Fuck. Define ‘familiar’.</p><p>“Yeah, I know him,” Dirk replies.</p><p>“Marvelous. In that case, please seek him out and inquire about the next chores. We will be back shortly.” Kankri seems to hesitate a bit, which gives the blond a bad feeling. “If I may ask, would you mind terribly fixing your--”</p><p>Fuck it, being with John can’t be as bad as listening to this guy. Dirk walks past him with a pat to his shoulder, then peeks his head around to try to spot him. Not like he was doing before, mind you. It has a different focus.</p><p>Dirk finds him filling up balloons in the meeting room. There are some on the floor, some wrapped in clusters and a lot of thread tangled in a heap. He pauses for a second before stepping inside.</p><p>“This is the most important task they had to outsource?” He crosses his arms, leaning on the wall. “Crockercorp must really trust their employees.”</p><hr/><p>After a semi-pleasant meeting with a chirpy troll and a very unpleasant one with a giant douchebag, John makes off for the meeting room with a ridiculous chore list full of green doodles (oh god, she writes even dumber than she talks), with the mission of making himself dizzy blowing air into rubber pockets. Crucial. </p><p>As he gets around back to the fancy see-through meeting room, and he gets started with the big bag of balloons already set up on the table, he wonders how long it’s gonna take until. You know. This party gets started. Everyone is here. They get to mingle and such. The usual. He doesn’t feel very focused right now.</p><p>Still. As soon as he hears<em> that deep Strider drawl  </em>behind him, he can’t help but spin around fast, to positively <em> beam at him  </em>with his trademark wide toothy grin, before he manages to collect himself (poorly) and assume a more neutral expression. And he definitely didn’t bump his ass against one of the chairs surrounding the big meeting room table while awkwardly backing up. At all.</p><p>“Oh! Hey!” he greets, with a little more enthusiasm than intended. “I was told they recruited you, too. Not sure why they told me but they did, I guess we’re the unofficial wedding party or whatever. Ahem. Welcome to where the action is, where the magic happens, where the…” he looks around awkwardly, ”balloons are blown. These execs have no imagination. How about a bouncy castle, or a karaoke machi- oh, god, no" the joke collapses under its own weight, "I hope I didn’t just guess one of the night’s activities, shit. If I have to hear <em> Total Eclipse of the Heart  </em>again, I’m gonna kill myself.” </p><p>At the patently heavy few seconds of silence, during which he could swear he can <em> feel </em> the stare piercing him, he tries “I’m just kidding. Come on” then he smiles weakly.</p><p>“Or how about… I don’t know, a clown! I’d think Jane might be a fan of that,  under the right circumstances. Man,<em> I  </em>want a bouncy castle. Who told me they made them for adults? Probably Dave.”</p><p>The brunette’s eyes land on the box the blond is carrying. “Oh cool, what did you get her? No, wait don’t tell me. Mmmmmmmm-” he holds a barely-inflated balloon close to his forehead, making pretend it’s a lightbulb for a bit, then eventually makes a dumb jumping gesture with it. “-hmmm! It’s something lovingly and painstakingly hand-customized!” he grins. “She still loves her Pony Pals. I think it might be her favorite gift ever.” </p><p>John pulls nervously on the strap of the tube still hanging off his body, suddenly feeling a little unsure. Then he points to the brown box under Dirk’s arm: “Anyway, I’m sure she’ll like it, as always. Even the wrapping.”</p><p>Oh shit. “That looks like the face of a man who just had to put up with Yammer McNubs, the infuriatingly snooty and patronizing head snob troll” he snorts, disdainful. “At least Nekogirl is adorably perky, even though she managed to use the words <em> 'pawrfectly', 'beclawse', 'efurrything'  and 'meowstly'  </em>in the same sentence.” John rolls his big blue eyes with pointed forcefulness and throws a groan in for good measure. “So annoying. Don’t ask.”</p><p>He keeps trying to come up with things to say in an effort to cover his nervousness, somehow unaware that rambling at a Davesque frantic speed achieves the exact opposite effect.</p><p>Something thankfully (not really) distracts him from his obvious emotional tension, however. </p><p>“Oh god, here the- wait. Wha-” He’s been eyeing a rather large item covered with a bright red (of course) paper sheet apprehensively, on and off, and right now he shoots a quick glare through the room’s glass walls at the waitstaff approaching it, before darting past the Strider and out the door, which snaps back closed behind him.</p><p>From inside the meeting room, John’s muffled yelling can be heard faintly.</p><p>“Hey, hey hey HEY!! What the hell are you doing, you idiots?!” he can vaguely be heard booming. “I told you not to put anything on there! Shit.” </p><p>After shooing people carrying trays of food with some aggressive flailing motions, John pulls out a pen from his back pocket to scribble a quick note on the paper covering. Then he unhooks the poster tube’s strap from around his body, leaving it over the boxy bulk and hesitating for a moment in front of it, then deciding that yes, that should be ok. It’s fine.</p><p> Eventually he returns to balloon central, a little red-faced. “Sorry” he huffs, pushing his glasses back up his nose with his index finger. “Gotta make sure they leave that alone, ok? Watch all this dumb execs ignore what I said again in five minutes. Geez, you’d think I’d get to be less of a dick to them now that I get to not be around them from 9 to 5 every day, but nope” he snorts.</p><p>Trying to catch at least some of his breath back a little, he just stands around idly for a few seconds. Looking right at Dirk. So let’s just say that <em> fails</em>. Has John ever seen him wearing a tight button-up shirt before?</p><p><b> <em>Anyway</em></b>, he realizes he still hasn’t shared any tasks with the blond like he was asked to initially, even though it feels like the brunette’s been talking non-stop for a whole fucking hour.</p><p>“So um. Yeah there’s balloon duty, setting up the gift table, folding napkins for some stupid reason, and oh-” he pulls up a big box with strange colorful parts from under the table. “Here’s the best part.” He takes out an orange cardboard moustache on a stick, bringing it up to upper lip level. “Putting together the prop photo booth.” It’s adorably awkward.</p><p>“This is what we’re in for tonight, apparently” he smirks as he throws it back into the box filled with picture props. “At the very least.”</p><hr/><p>Wow.</p><p>Okay. That is… not what Dirk was expecting.</p><p>At several points, the blond opens his mouth to talk but is interrupted by yet another onslaught of pure mania. Did someone plug him in a higher voltage or something? Was there too much caffeine on his cherry soda? He’s pretty sure he’s seen rabid chihuahuas calmer than John at the moment.</p><p>There’s so much to unpack in everything he’s saying and doing and whatever’s going on around them, but Dirk, the guy who finished engineering school in half the expected time, is left reeling and scrambling behind to catch up to John’s ramble.</p><p>Well, at least the guy looks…fine? A little more alive? Not pissed at him for prodding last time they talked? The guy’s even making a suicide joke and though Dirk’s no stranger to them, even he is not sure how to react.</p><p>More so when John, who was stumbling around drunkenly the last time they met in person, storms past him to yell at the employees about something. It feels like watching something you’re not supposed to, or that it’s spiraling out of control.</p><p>Is this how John really is, or the way he’s being now is who he isn’t? Is there even that such a divide like that?</p><p>Dirk has never been more confused in his life. He’s so shocked that he’s almost scared. The room even got a little hotter because of it.</p><p>By the time John comes back and finishes describing the tasks for the party’s exciting attractions, Dirk doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making. When he realizes he’s expected to reply, he latches onto the last bit of conversation.</p><p>“Promising,” the blond offers, then clears his throat. “Considering there are apparently enough conspicuous wrappings to build a small foundation for a pile already, maybe we should start with the table. Is there any particular design I should follow?”</p><p>In search for hints, Dirk looks around the room. The colorful balloons and the chromatic diversity of the numerous props lying around make him almost uncomfortable from how dissonant they look from the corporate-cold layout of the building. It all looks pretty artificial and… off.</p><p>Huh. He thinks he gets why John hates this place.</p><p>“Or… not follow?”</p><hr/><p>Dirk is… quiet. And stiff.</p><p>…in a different way that he’s usually quiet, and stiff?</p><p><em> You just word-puked a whole doctoral thesis onto his plate, Egbert. </em> What the hell kinda reaction is there for that??</p><p>In John's defense, the abridged version of the last few weeks has been <em> angry confrontation, then hazy drunken sex. Denial? Reprisal. Goading. Coercion. Intimacy? Even angrier sex. Catharsis. Guilt, shame, more denial. Distance. Tension, clash. Depression. Breakdown. Connection? Viciousness. Breakthrough. Concern? </em></p><p>And now…</p><p>What the hell is now??</p><p>John has no fucking idea what to expect anymore, or what to do with himself for that matter. What either of them even <em>wants</em>.</p><p>Holy shit, this is a long silence. <em> Say something again. </em></p><p>“Um, I mean. I think it’s just a folding table.” His voice comes out soft and shy. “They left it over there, just needs to be set up and covered with one of their dumb red tablecloths I guess?” John walks over to point to the rectangular shape in the corner behind the blond, trying and failing to dismiss how physically close they’ve become. Or that scarred bottom lip.</p><p>“If you want to do something creative…” the brunette finally manages to drag his gaze up from the taller man’s mouth, and unhook his own lip from under his overbite, “we could tie all of these haphazardly strewn around balloons into some sort of stupid shape. I dunno, any ideas?”</p><p>John turns around to look at the colorful rubber mess for a moment and swallow and breathe and blink.</p><p>“…a moustache? You know how Jane likes those. Though fuck me if I know why!” he chuckles.</p><hr/><p><em> Well, do you?</em>, Dirk’s mind unhelpfully provides, something the man decides to smoothly ignore.</p><p>He’s a bit disappointed at the brunette’s answer, but not too much, since he’s caught John ogling his mouth and unconsciously licked his lips himself. What the fuck, Strider.</p><p>When Egbert looks away, Dirk finds himself tracing the contours of the man’s face with his gaze. John still looks a little breathless, his teeth poking out as he speaks and sighs, and the flushed tone of his skin reminds the other of…okay, let’s abort that train of thought.</p><p>His outfit seems a bit too formal and inappropriate at the same time, which the blond supposes is just what Jane would enjoy seeing someone wear to her birthday party.</p><p>John seems to have come back down from his sugar high, however, leaving them in that awkward stalemate once more. Only this time, there’s a different current of tension hanging between them. </p><p>Dirk sucks in a breath and steps away from John to unfold the table and set it up. He looks around for the table cloths as he starts up again. “Sounds good.”</p><p>And that should have been it, except Striders have a curious psychological mechanism that activates of its own accord at times of social stress.</p><p>“What kind are we going for? Waiter at a bistro? Early puberty teen? Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard? Lumberjack? 80s stud? Social justice warrior Starbucks hipster? Local pedophile? Nazi? Some of these overlap, by the way.”</p><p>Dirk realizes he’s just spoken to Egbert for far more minutes than necessary, which is zero, for the record, and busies himself with straightening out every single fucking wrinkle on the gift table. Damn that’s one smooth cloth right there, bro.</p><hr/><p>John muses all those options with a dorky amused grin, while tying balloons together in a shape that’s honestly more reminiscent of a banana. Hopefully a banana.</p><p>“How about… retro Miami Art Decó with a hint of Southern Gothic? That would send <em> some kind of message</em>, probably” he snorts, having fun. And...</p><p>Observing Dirk not so subtly while he works, moving around the room lithe and feline, the curves of his arm muscles, the way… he leans down… flexing his g-</p><p>
  <em> I-It’s distracting. Time to change the subject. </em>
</p><p>“What’s an 80s stud??”</p><hr/><p>As he places his unremarkable parcel on the table and goes back to help with the balloons, the eldest Strider finds himself actually snorting in amusement at the rebuttal. Fuck, no, this guy’s an asshole.</p><p>Then again, Dirk is also an asshole. It figures only someone as fucked up as himself would--</p><p>He pops the bulb in his hand from squeezing it too hard. “Sorry.” Focus.</p><p>The blond grabs another balloon. Apparently, the color order criteria is ‘whatever’s closer’. He doesn’t give enough fucks to argue. “Oh, you know, the good old dirt caterpillar for older guys in the club. Right over the minimally puckered lips, under the crooked nose, matching the eyebrows. Might be an obscure reference.”</p><p><em> Or a non-straight one, more likely. </em> Dirk doesn’t know why he doesn’t add that out loud. Surely it must have nothing to do with the way he’s watching John’s hands wrap around the rubber and threads while pretending to do so as well.</p><p>“For this party, perhaps we should do a Mario ‘stache, since it’s easily recognizable for people whose cultural references have been replaced with culinary anecdotes. If we make it symmetric, we can tie it in the middle to make it hang both sides,” he rambles, tying another string.</p><hr/><p>John’s nodding his head with a deer-in-headlights expression at the historically relevant explanation that’s going over his head, when his breath hitches. Their fingers get tangled in a mess of string and oblong balloons while trying to work and their hands graze against each other. In his defense, he’s really rattled and fiddly and probably within the <em> top 100 clumsiest people in existence  </em>chart. Also he needs to focus because he’s staring at the blond’s body parts again like a brain-dead idiot. To be fair, his eyes have an excuse to get caught up looking at Dirk’s... <em>bare hands </em> for a couple of extra seconds.</p><p>“Uh ok, there’s some peach balloons over there. We can use them to make Mario’s dumb potato nose.” The dork climbs over the table to reach one of the bags that’s been slapped too far out of the way, instead of going around the table because that would make too much sense and he wouldn’t end up on all fours. And gods forbid John fucking Egbert doesn’t turn every single one of their interactions into an awkward ordeal. Whatever, the gracelessness parade is a constant in his life by now.</p><p>Luckily, the next timespan goes by fast between shoddily constructing part of a plumber’s face, and an oddly uneventful chat about videogames. They have a surprising amount of shared interests in that area (Final Fantasy is just universally awesome, ok), even though John manages to get into a bit of a rant about the underrated janky qualities of the Ghostbusters MMORPG. Also, Dirk likes Katamari, which he guesses is pretty rad!</p><p>A while goes by, quiet, pleasant, and with a minimal amount of awkward chuckles. Decorations are made their bitch, they even manage to set up the counter-intuitive photo booth kit which, John discovers with a blushing shock, feels more like a kissing booth if one person’s standing inside it while there’s someone else facing them from the outside.</p><p>Sooner rather than later, more guests start coming in and the space beyond their calm little meeting room bubble fills up with frantic buzzing and conversation noise. The brunette is none too thrilled, preferring to chill at home online or with a couple of close friends instead of submerging into this buzzing swarm, but whatever. It’s only one night, and it’s for Jane. It’ll probably be more tedious than anything else.</p><p>Together they bring out the miscellaneous party paraphernalia and roll out the gift table, on which John has already placed his sister’s gift, pinning a note on it that (among other things) says <em> save for last </em> . At the blond’s quizzical look, John sort of flusters and, rubbing the back of his neck up and down, shyly declares <em> he also made her something </em> without getting into any further detail. Nepeta the catgirl troll winks at him knowingly from a few feet away and gives him a thumbs up that she undoubtedly turns into <em> claw up </em> or <em> paw up  </em>within her head. The brunette nods at her, then looks back for the hundredth time to where he left his stuff, confirming once again that no one’s been messing with anything.</p><p>It’s probably almost time for Jane to arrive and everyone’s swiftly putting the last touches on every detail, when they hear two happy chirpy voices. Oh boy, here come Roxy and Jade.</p><hr/><p>Before the blond realizes, they've filled the room with quiet, sporadic comments about the decoration, about the company, about common interests. They get into the topic of videogames and Dirk is not in the least surprised to find out John knows his way with a joystick. That sounded wrong, but it's hard to think when there's a boy in tight jeans bending over to pick up a balloon right before your eyes. What the fuck is he even wearing <em> suspenders  </em>for? Is John aware of their original purpose?</p><p>In any case, the most disconcerting thing about chattering with Egbert isn't even his atrocious taste in games, though Dirk can't possibly believe someone unironically likes the fucking <em> Ghostbusters </em>MMORPG. Nope, not having it.</p><p>The problem is that he's actually entertained by their casual banter. John is pretty corny and can pull off some expressions that make him look ten years younger. Dirk, however, much to his distress, doesn't find that particularly annoying or stressful, instead being almost lulled by the melodic sound of the brunette's voice.</p><p>It's... unsettling.</p><p>At some point after getting through the first tasks on the list, troll fussy asshole and troll furry secretary come back and dispatch a new set of orders, in a way that makes them almost academically busy for a long while.</p><p>It's only when he hears the grating shrill of his brother's ex's voice that his irritation flares. Dirk looks up from moving a chair to puff out his chest and cross his arms.</p><p>Jade is going for John, but can't miss the opportunity to confront Dirk. "Augh, it's you again. What are you doing with my cousin, Strider? Isn't it enough to mess with only one in the family??"</p><p>"I could say the same about you, Harley." He shoots back without missing a beat. The woman makes a face, but before their animosity can escalate, Dirk amends: "Just go talk to Egbert before I go back to bully him or whatever the fuck you think I do around him."</p><p>She doesn't press further, but if she reacts, the man doesn't catch it, since he brushes past her toward Roxy. His little sister is wearing some light colored pants, a dark short-sleeved dress shirt and a light grey vest. Also, of course, a bright pink scarf around her neck. Dirk smiles fondly.</p><p>"Yoooo, looking good, dude," she whistles, patting the man's shoulder.</p><p>"Thanks, you too. Quite the distinct style you've figured out for yourself." Dirk shoves his hands in his pockets, looking as if he's lounging beside her.</p><p>"You betcha! Gotta look good on the dance floor, amirite?" She pauses after a playful shove on his side. "Yeah... uh, listen, D-K, I should probably warn you... Jake's coming too."</p><p>He blinks, then looks down at Roxy. "Yes? I figured he would."</p><p>She tilts her head. "And where are you with that?"</p><p>Dirk shrugs. "I'm over him, Roxy. Or, at the very least, with enough judgement so as to not turn this into a carnival shitshow of past drama."</p><p>"Are you, now," she muses quizzically. Her brother frowns. "Don't think I'm that easily fooled, Dirky, I know why you went to that party with me."</p><p>He tenses up, a deer caught in the headlights. Fuck. "I went because you convinced me to leave my house every once in a while."</p><p>The girl doesn't seem convinced, but something about his stance seems to please her. "If you say so. I just know you well enough to know you can hold a grudge like nobody else on Earth and Jake is your prime target."</p><p>She's not wrong. A few weeks ago, Dirk would jump at any and every opportunity he had to one-up Jake. He doesn't really know what's changed, but his bilious emotions from before have simmered down considerably.</p><p>"Rest assured, no tables will be broken and/or burned tonight." He reaches out to ruffle her hair, being immediately awarded with a squirmish groan.</p><p>"Dude, no! It just took so long to fix my hair todaaaaay, Diiiirk..."</p><p>In the distance, Dirk can see Jade talking to John, who shifts expression with intriguing frequency. He wonders what she's saying to him.</p><p>"Changed your mind about Egbert?"</p><p>Roxy's voice almost makes him jolt. Dirk manages to keep himself still.</p><p>"About his inherent douchiness? No, not really," he replies, looking away.</p><p>She takes a while to start up conversation again, and does so with a hint of... disappointment?. "He's not as much of an ass as you think, y'know. I dunno, I've been thinking about giving him a chance? I've gotten the ok from Rose so..."</p><p>Dirk's heart stops. His whole circuit freezes for a few seconds. His next furrow of eyebrows is entirely incredulity and nothing else at all. "That <em> tool </em>? Seriously? Roxy, you can do better."</p><p>Roxy gives him a somehow sad look. "Bold of you to think I have high standards. Jk tho, he's pretty nice and cute so."</p><p>Dirk doesn't have time to respond, though, because the organizers shush the guests and employees and announce Jane's in the building and for everyone to assume their positions.</p><hr/><p>As the Jade and Roxy duo (Jadexy?) enters the hall, John anxiously watches from his current streamers-and-banners duty vantage point, as Jade heads right for the Strider and snarls at him for a bit. He keeps practically wringing his hands together until they part, seemingly without further escalation or drama, then climbs down from the chair he was standing on, feeling thankful. Phew.</p><p>Although?</p><p>“John!!” Jade squeals, interrupting his train of thought adeptly. “How are you?? Oh my god, we missed you!!” The boy has no choice but to smile wide at her enthusiasm. As much as the girls’ presence introduces a new set of shaky variables (that he never even remotely considered til exactly this precise moment, because <em> what are self-aware cogent thoughts)</em>, he’s truly happy to finally see her in person. They both wrap in a comfortable, close familial hug. “Hey Jades. I missed you too!”</p><p>“Aw, shoot, it’s been a madhouse, I've barely managed to rack up five minutes to myself to come over and visit with you!! I’m so sorry, John.” Her peppy face starts twisting into an apprehensive frown, but is quickly dismissed by John shaking his head and smiling warmly. And she knows better than to not read full-fledged honesty into that, swiftly returning to her family trademark toothy grin.</p><p>His eyes keep nervously darting towards the StriLonde siblings though, having the uncomfortable feeling that they’re glancing in his direction and talking about… him. Them? Probably them. Jade’s concerned voice brings him back with a conspicuous jerk of his head, because he’s nowhere near Strider-levels of smooth.</p><p>“Are you staring at them, John? Is everything ok?” Shit, she’s getting that fierce guard dog expression. “Has that jerk been harassing you?? I don’t know what’s going on, but I know he <em> did something</em>. What’s the deal?? I swear I’ll jam a pumpkin up hi-” </p><p>“No no no nonono!” John flails frenetically in objection. “Everything’s fine, I swear. I’m all good. I promise, Jade.” He leans over to shoot her a comforting ocean-eyed look over his glasses and a small warm smile. “I just uh. Haven’t seen Roxy for what feels like too long, I guess?” he lies. “I was just spacing thinking I should go up and say hi later! Yeah, totally.”</p><p>Jade beams a worryingly ominous tickled-pink grin at him. She bounces a bit on the balls of her feet with her hands fisted in front of her. All she’s missing is wagging her tail. <em> Oh fuck</em>. What now?</p><p>“Oh my god, ok!!” She nearly yells but then lowers her voice to about a hundredth of the volume. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but I’m gonna explode if I don’t!! But you gotta keep it cool. Are you, John Egbert, capable of keeping your cool for just a few seconds? I know it doesn’t seem like I’m asking for a miracle here, but I probably am.” Jade jokes jovially.</p><p>“Sure, yeah. As much as anyone in our family can manage to be <em> cool</em>.” John rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “Which is not at all. You know how it is.” Jade dismisses his negging with a wave of her hand, too busy <em> vibrating  </em>to engage on that particular topic.</p><p>“Ok, ok ok ok. I’m not supposed to say anything, <em> I’m really not</em>, so you have to keep it on the down-low!!” She’s still squealing a bit too loud, but then leans in to mutter close to his ear. “I have it on good authority that Roxy might be going after you soon, she likes you! I think she’s gonna ask you out, yay!! Isn’t that exciting?!”</p><p>His cousin practically twirls in excitement in her starry sundress, and John’s heart skips a beat that feels more like a warning that it’s about to lurch out of his mouth, or whatever orifice it can get to. Jade giggles at his expression, clearly misinterpreting his wide-eyed shock stare, and pats his upper arm comfortingly.</p><p>“It’s gonna be ok, you don’t have to be nervous!! You know she’s really chill.” And then, because John’s horrified look has gone nowhere thus far, she asks with a quirked eyebrow, “you <em> do </em> like her, don’t you? I’ve seen you both laughing and hitting it off so many times by now. It’s getting <em> pine-y </em>!” She does one more little excited jump.</p><p>…</p><p>It seems that Jade just asked him a question. Apparently about Roxy, from the vague recollection John’s brain gathered off her distant words. About what <em> he  </em>thinks of <em> her</em>, has the highest statistical probability.</p><p>“Aaah, um. Well y- I, uuuuh.” Shit shit shit SHIT. His ears are ringing, where the fuck is this suddenly coming from?! Oh wait, he was supposed to see this coming a mile away, if he wasn’t too much of an idiot to anticipate anything related to feelings, ever. He is so shitting <em> fucked</em>.</p><p>Jade’s still waiting, watching his face closely. Oh fuck, she’s his smartest cousin. Gotta reassure like the wind, Egbert.</p><p>“Oh hell, yeah, Roxy is so great. Haha!” Every single one of his next utterances is then followed by a nearly-histrionic choked up laugh. “Of course she is, she’s smart and pretty and cool, why wouldn’t I ever like her? Ha! There would be something seriously wrong with me if I didn’t, heheheee. What justification could you <em> possibly  </em>have, HAHA. I mean, you’d need a pretty heavy reason to not fall head-over-heels for a girl like her!!! Hehehehehehe. Yeah, she’s great, so great, everything’s great!! Ohohoho.” He desperately tries to catch his breath, hoping not to look nearly as mortified as he is, without much hope.</p><p>At least something that sounds remotely genuine comes out of his mouth eventually.</p><p>“S-sorry. I’m really fucking nervous.” He waves his hands frantically, trying to dismiss, well, EVERYTHING. “It’s just um. Big news! Yes. Pretty big. Kinda really weird! But big. Yeah.” When will the ground fucking open up and<em> swallow him</em>.</p><p>Their delightful exchange is abruptly interrupted when they’re warned that Jane is coming up, then everyone quickly gets ready for her entrance. John waits with everyone else, in silent tension, then tries to ignore how he can feel his heart sinking to his feet as best as he can, and concentrate on yelling the most genuine possible <em> 'SURPRISE!!!'.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Horologium: Catch the song reference in the chapter and win Dirk's roleplayer's heart &gt;:3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“SURPRISE!”</p><p>Jane has her cellphone in hand and a wide-eyed, sparkly look on her face as she walks in from the reception desk. “Oh my god! What is all this…?”</p><p>The people flock to her as she steps inside the main area for the party, congratulating her and distributing hugs and handshakes. The two executive suck-ups responsible for the planning shove some coworkers out of the way to boast, probably, but Dirk can’t hear them from his perch near the entrance over the chatter that bubbles up around the room.</p><p>Not that he would be able to pay much attention, anyway. Roxy’s left him to his thoughts and feelings to sneak some appetizer from the table since, and he quotes, she ‘could eat her own dick’ from how hungry she is. He snorts remembering her expression of choice.</p><p>But what sticks with him is her previous comment about making a move on John. Something churns in his gut at the mental picture of the two as a couple, likely because it looks like a haunting echo of Egbert’s relationship with Rose. That’s a perfectly logical, plausible reason, so he latches on to that.</p><p>“Cripes! I’ve ran late!”</p><p>A familiar voice snaps the blond out of it and he turns to look beside him. Jake has finally arrived, looking a little disheveled and troubled, with a gift whose wrapping makes him look like a stripper Santa. Considering Dirk has witnessed the man laughing ‘hohoho’, the analogy is pretty powerful.</p><p>“It’s fine, Jane just got here,” he provides, monotonic, watching the room from behind his shades.</p><p>Jake lets out a sigh. “Oh thank goodness. I’m afraid I went a tad overboard with picking my evening attire. I should have negotiated my way out of training drill duty today, I knew something like this had a fair chance of happening.”</p><p>Ah, yes. “You’re still posted at that fire station near the mall?”</p><p>“I am!” The man chirps, breaking out a proud grin that still gets to Dirk’s dick. He’s dressed outrageously, as always, but the way his slacks hug his thighs-- alright, Strider, you’re not going down that hole again. Literally. “We’ve gotten a fresh batch of trainees and though I’m not quite experienced, they’re making me sit in as an assistant to absorb as much as I can of the exercises.”</p><p>Dirk nods. Jake’s energy is one of the few he seems to be swayed by. “Sounds like you’ve fit in well.”</p><p>“Absolutely! Can’t fathom doing anything else.” Dirk doesn’t miss the way his emerald eyes, even if partially masked by his glasses, trail down his body. “You seem to be hitting on all eights, too. You’re even togged to the bricks tonight!”</p><p>The blond snorts. Where the fuck does he even get those expressions from? “It’s a special occasion,” he settles for, looking out for Roxy again. Talking to Jake is not exactly ranking high on the list of pleasant things in his life, even if he can now withstand breathing the same air as him and not strangle and/or straddle him. It was confusing, he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.</p><p>But English, the ever-living complete <em> idiot</em>, laughs and claps a hand to Dirk’s shoulder. “I suppose it is!” It lingers a little more than the blond is comfortable with and the brunette seems to realize it, because he retracts the hand and scratches his nape. Then, he seems to remember what’s going on around them. “Oh, right! Where should I leave this?”</p><p>“Stack on that Tetris pile over there,” Dirk points to the gift table. “Good luck.”</p><p>Jake’s gaze follows his finger and his face contorts into a grimace. “Yikes. Well, in any case, thank you, Dirk. I guess I’ll see you around, then.”</p><p>With one more awkward smile, he disappears into the crowd. Now that was tiring. Where the fuck is Roxy, anyway? Dirk starts walking around to look for his sister.</p>
<hr/><p>After holding a cup of punch long enough that it gets warm and sloshy in his hand, because his not-smartest cousin’s clumsy entrance and subsequent interaction with Dirk are too entrancing… uh… John forgets where this train of thought was going. When Jake laughs as he leans on the blond’s shoulder… yeah it’s time to finally wrangle his gaze off of the Strider, even if he has to turn back around facing the snacks table. Oh, look at all these over-processed sugar bombs. And aren’t mini quiches just so fascinating? <em> Sigh</em>.</p><p>For a while, he concentrates on watching Jane after the buzz around the gift table indicates she’s starting to open presents. There’s some truly stupid items in the show, like musical slippers (that aren’t even <em> trying </em> not to be ugly), and a <em> shower margarita machine </em> (what), together with some nifty stuff, like a waffle iron with a Fibonacci spiral pattern, which, <em> what the fuck </em> and also <em> genius</em>. John chuckles at Dirk’s more gaggy gifts, failing to not compare the beaglepuss mask to his silly Pikachu sleuth hat, which by the way Jane immediately tries on for a spell. She looks so happy, and it makes something churn in his stomach.</p><p>She deserves the best cause she’s a fucking amazing person, so no stalling. As nerve-wracking as it is, John starts making his way to the center of the room.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Assistant Mew Mew clinks on a glass with her dessert spoon, trying to get everyone’s attention, eventually getting frustrated when no one pays attention, and finally yelling in a shrill voice.</p><p>“Efurrybody, PAW ATTENTION!!” <em> Seriously?  </em>“There’s one last purresent to be given, and it comes from our dear Jane’s brother, John Egfurt!!” She claps enthusiastically and everyone politely follows suit, oh god, John thinks he might die. That was just as subtle as he thought she might be when he was begging her to be subtle earlier. Shiiiiiit.</p><p>Better get going, or it might not happen at all. With a burning face, the brunette walks over to the very epicenter of the room, where they had their mysterious large hidden item brought in and covered, first retrieving the tube on it and letting it hang off his arm by the strap.</p><p> John rapidly pulls the bright red covering off their old piano and, ignoring a generalized hush, sits at the stool. The stiff poster tube, swiftly opened, produces a hand-written music sheet into his rather shaky hands. Don’t look around, and don’t think. About <em> anyone</em>. Just Jane. Relax.</p><p>With a deep breath, followed by hissing the air back out through his buck teeth, John does his best to get into the right mindspace to begin playing his composition. <em> You’re alone in the room, just as always. </em></p><p>His slender fingers land gently on the ivories.</p><p>But first, a mental thank you to Rose, Dave and Jade, his very musically-gifted friends without whom this piece wouldn’t have been possible within the very short time frame. Their input is always amazingly helpful. Jade even helped him name it: <em> Together Again. </em></p><p><em> Quite a nicely fitting title, </em> John muses with his last deliberate thought, before his fingers start moving and his mind, face and whole body relax into the music. His consciousness and his nerves get into a trance, merging him, eyes half-lidded, completely with the melody.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Authors' note: inspiration song! :D</p>
  <p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=El4uC6Y14Zo"><br/>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=El4uC6Y14Zo </a> </p>
  <p>
    <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/26KRQy7lVLQ0SDIQpVQhHz?highlight=spotify:track:0IHEGOzrcjOM14rN4M8FAO"> https://open.spotify.com/album/26KRQy7lVLQ0SDIQpVQhHz?highlight=spotify:track:0IHEGOzrcjOM14rN4M8FAO </a>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Eventually, Dirk does find Roxy stuffing her face at the food table. It isn’t long before the party naggers goad Jane into starting opening gifts, though, so they gather around to watch her reactions. There are some very creative ones, and some Dirk knows with a passion she will never use in her life, ever. John’s is goofy but makes her smile broadly, and the scene is… endearing. He realizes his face muscles are tense and forces his lips to go slack again.</p><p>When the birthday girl spots the discreet parcel, she smiles knowingly and searches for him in the crowd. Dirk returns the smirk from afar and watches as he snorts at his layered gift, after having some trouble tearing through the tape. She mouths him a thank you and he nods. They know exactly what the other’s feeling, it’s natural at this point in their friendship.</p><p>It goes on for a while, Dirk grabs some coffee someone has mercifully provided for the occasion, Roxy is chugging on some soda and they’re both nibbling on the overly intricate aperitifs of the food table. Then, My Little Furry decides to make an announcement.</p><p>He’s pretty sure the sequence of letters ‘Egfurt’ enunciated by her has just taken five years off his life and caused several blood vessels in his brain to burst, but it isn’t enough to throw off his surprise. Ever since John had looked sketchy about it earlier, Dirk had been making guesses and assumptions about that installation in the middle of the area. It had slipped his mind, actually, but now has his full attention.</p><p>Oh. It’s a piano. Wait, how the fuck did they get that in here? Is that the one from John’s study? He hadn’t been sure whether it was John himself or his late father who played it, but well, regardless of his dad’s background, this settles it.</p><p>Turns out, Egbert’s not bad. Dirk wonders if it’s an original composition. It seems to be, since the sheet he’s using seems to be scratched and scrambled all over. It’s one hell of a cheesy ass gift, really sentimental, he supposes. Jane feels the emotion too, from the look of adoration dominating her face as she steps closer to the piano. Under the light, he can see her aqua eyes watering. <em> Aw, to melt an icy heart, </em> the blond muses internally.</p><p>Something else is catching his attention, though. Even playing for someone else, John looks lost in the music, in his movements, in the notes. For maybe the first time since they’ve known each other, Dirk feels…passion from him. Like the brunette’s doing something he actually likes for himself, not because he was dragged into it and can’t wait for it to be over so he can go home.</p><p>John looks completely different and unabashedly…alive, a stark contrast from the man Dirk found drinking his gloom away a couple of weeks ago.</p><p>When John hits the last sequence on the piano, which has been the only sound in the room ever since he’s started playing, Jane walks up to him and gives him a tight, affectionate hug. The guests and organizers kick up the applause and Dirk joins them, not missing the way Roxy looks at him for it. Come on, he’s just playing along.</p><p>“Wow, he’s really good,” she comments, throwing the bait. He hums noncommittally. “C’mon, bro, I saw you tapping your fingers to the song, you big tsundere.” Roxy shoves him lightly, flashing a smirk that runs in their family.</p><p>Dirk shoves her back in good spirit, resting an elbow on her head until she fusses over to remove it. “I can’t help it, Rox. My brain just sticks to background beats.”</p><p>She recovers, giggling, and grabs another fancy snack. “Speaking of which, what happened to the mixes you used to make? They were pretty sick.”</p><p>Damn, now that’s something he hasn’t thought about in a while. “I grew out of it and tossed them. They weren’t that good, anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>Roxy doesn’t look convinced, but he’s saved by the ring when Senior Ear-Abuser passive-aggressively asks everyone to gather around to sing happy birthday. For party planners, they sure are party-poopers.</p>
<hr/><p>As he’s finally liberated from his sister’s loving embrace, John sighs in relief. <em> Because the embarrassing tense part is over</em>, definitely not because Jane is looking at him with sparkling joyful eyes with her hands still on his shoulders. “You’re welcome so much,” he mutters in response at her choked-up whisper in his ear while they were hugging a moment ago, and beams a smile at her while the applause finally dies down.</p><p>Then, it’s officially allotted time to sing happy birthday and cut the cake! Apparently. Man, this party has such a tightly-wound schedule that he hasn’t even had much chance to talk to Jane yet. Figures they’d set it up like this. Oh well, she seems positively charmed by all the attentions, so no complaints, he guesses.</p><p>At the (colossal, 8 feet tall, ridiculously ostentatious) cake station, John makes the monumental effort to indulge in some baked goods in honor of Jane’s special day, despite his totally reasonable and definitely not wildly irrational hatred of the stuff. Bright aqua fondant covered cake with <em> edible </em>glitter and sparkles. It looks pretty, and also like 10 kinds of carcinogenic substances are included. At least it’s chocolate.</p><p>John takes his plate of cake and cup of coffee with him a little ways off and out of the small swarming crowd, to a calmer area. Spotting the beshaded blond resting nonchalantly against a wall with his own cup o’ black joe, John approaches and casually lands right next to Dirk, like he didn’t have a whole giant room full of corners to choose. After a non-committal ‘hey’ and one received in response, they just watch the party for a while in quiet.</p><p>Soon they start taking out some extra equipment for the evening’s entertainment. With a hiss, John cringes at his inadvertently sniper-accurate guess when they roll out a karaoke machine which, fortunately, they don’t seem to be hooking up yet at least.</p><p>“Shit. If Jane drags me into <em> performing a duet  </em>with her” his fingers twist into air-quotes as he rolls his eyes dramatically, “you might need to actually worry about me jumping out a window this time. Yeah, I’m still kidding” he adds immediately, smirking fondly at the Strider. “Not kidding about the absolute need to avoid that karaoke, though. You <em> do not  </em>want to hear singing coming out of <em> this mouth</em>,” he vaguely gestures at his overbitten pout with his index finger, right before stuffing another chunk of cake into it.</p><p>As his eyes find their cousins talking to Jane spiritedly across the hall, there’s an uncomfortable pang of heat in his stomach. Jake rubs him the wrong way often for a number of reasons, but lately he feels like a more acute and focused grating kind of annoyance. Truth be told, bubbling nonsensical strangled feelings in his stomach are becoming a constant bother. Like for random casual completely unrelated and irrelevant example: how being around Dirk, he’s starting to admit more and more, is always making everything he does or say have an extra layer of thoughtless and stupid. Such as the following question.</p><p>“D-did you like the song?”</p><p>As soon as what’s left his own mouth kicks in, he turns to look at Dirk slowly with wide eyes, then turns back just as slow to look ahead into the distance and try to pretend that didn’t just happen. Everything is pain and frostbite in his bumbling soul.</p><p>“…at least I’m happy she… she seemed to kind of like it.” He quickly sips from his dark mocca to shut himself the fuck up.</p>
<hr/><p>After Roxy saunters away to grab some sugary concoctions for herself, Dirk leans back on an empty space of wall while debating whether he should get a slice of cake to go with the bitterness of his coffee. The corporate-sized plastic cup is nearly empty, though, so maybe he’ll just sit this one out.</p><p>Then, at some point, John joins him. The blond greets him curtly, proceeding to focus his gaze on anything else. A plant in the corner is his object of choice.</p><p>To his surprise, the man speaks up in what sounds suspiciously like an attempt at starting conversation. There’s even the use of dark humor involved, does he know that’s Dirk’s natural habitat?</p><p>The Strider looks sideways at him. John looks on edge. Maybe Roxy has already spoken to him, and now he’s nervously trying to warm up to Dirk? Unlikely, since she has stuck to him ever since she arrived, but there have been some gaps.</p><p>“I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve seen at least four people stumbling into each other already, I think most of them will be plastered before karaoke is even open.” He drinks the last of his caffeine, unsure of why he felt the need to reassure him.</p><p>He wishes he hadn’t, though, because John asks about the song and he has no excuse to delay his answer.</p><p>“Yeah, it was nicely performed. Very passionate,” Dirk replies, then mentally punches himself. That is <em> not </em>a word he wants to use in any context involving Egbert. He looks away again. “Jane likes high tech shit for their utility, but the gifts that stick with her the most are the personal ones.”</p><p>
  <em> Don’t ask, you don’t care, it’s none of your business, you don’t give a crap about this guy, he has nothing to do with-- </em>
</p><p>“How did you learn the piano?”</p>
<hr/><p>It takes quite a bit for John to process Dirk calling him <em> passionate </em>so unexpectedly. Even though he expected nothing. Or hoped for anything. Or was looking for any kind of connection whatsoever. Still. It’s hard to even register the man’s next words with that ringing in his ears.</p><p>“Oh. Yeah.” His usually lively voice comes out really soft and timid. “Um, thank you. She always cherishes your gifts for that exact same reason. But of course you know that,” he chuckles, still looking ahead. His skin feels like a heat lamp’s over them. “Really. Thanks.” Stupid smile won’t go away, <em> you’re such a dork. </em></p><p>As he finishes his coffee and cake, he crumples up the paper cup and plate into a ball, then absurdly tries for a three-point shot into one of the waste bins they’ve placed around for the party, and miserably fails. Well, that was a stupid choice. <em> Should have seen that coming a mile away</em>, he shrugs as the ball of paper rolls down some steps and out of sight.</p><p>“It was… our mom. She started teaching us before, you know. She was gone.” John glances quickly at the blond out the corner of his eye, not wanting to involve him in yet another stupid sob story. “I was really young and I barely remember, I don’t even know if she ever got to actually teach me anything solid. But I guess after she passed, my dad wanted to keep teaching us piano as some sort of… way of honoring her I guess? He was really terrible at it though~” John laughs nonchalant and amused at the memory. “I’m sorry to say, but Jane, too. Too practical in their way of thinking, probably. But I…” he rubs at his knuckles, anxious to distract himself from the realization that this sounds way too much like an intimate confession. “I liked it. And I guess I was kind of good at it? Which was weird because I’m not, like. Talented. So I kept practicing and teaching myself.”</p><p>John muses, “it’s like I’m good at it because I can let go through the music. I guess I should do things that really let me… cut loose?” He blinks in confusion, like it’s the first time that he’s hearing these thoughts in or out of his head.</p><p>“What about you? Dave told me you taught him all about music and stuff. He was so jazzed to show me the turntables he inherited from you” the brunette snorts fondly.</p>
<hr/><p>As John falls silent, Dirk peeks down at him from the corner of his eyes. The man looks flustered by his comment and his face is definitely tinged with a darker color.</p><p>…</p><p>What the fuck is even going on here?</p><p>Dirk watches the Olympic failure in John’s throw and distracts himself with his story. He did ask, after all.</p><p>Well, at least he didn’t imagine it. Dirk knows Jane to be a little too clumsy and impatient to try her hand at musical instruments, even if she does appreciate a good composition. John, though, seems to embrace music completely, based on his earlier performance. The blond’s impression checks out, then.</p><p><em> Fuck</em>. Yep, he brought this upon himself, Dirk muses when John asks him about music. Two times at the same party? That’s far too much of a coincidence. When did Roxy get ahold of him?</p><p>Since he knows about the turntables, there’s no faking it out of this one. Dirk sucks in a breath. God fucking damn it, Dave. “Nah, he’s just sucking up to me. Most of his skills with mixing are his own doing, but he plays them down because he still holds me to a high standard, I guess. I don’t scratch anymore, so his level’s probably surpassed mine by now.”</p><p>Looking down at his empty cup, he decides he’s had enough of coffee and crumples it in his hand, tossing it into the nearest bin. So he’s really doing this, huh. Shit.</p><p>“Back when I was involved with Jane in the student council, I found those turntables lying around in the deposit. Apparently, they’d been donated to the school for fund-gathering parties, but they needed repairs and new cables, so the equip’ was thrown down there until the tech guy got to it. I offered to try to fix them and ended up learning how to operate them in the process. By the time they were in top shape again, the board had sold some stuff and bought new equipment, so the teacher that supervised us at the student body told me to keep it.” Dirk snorts. “The man must have had a thing for me, because those turntables didn’t look cheap. Then again, they were donated and defective, so maybe it was a matter of who’d make the best use out of it.” He breathes out a long sigh. “Turns out it was Dave, in the end.”</p><p>He knows that’s not it. Every adult in that school looked at Dirk as if he was the most pitiful dog in the penthouse. They saw the bruises and the marks; they knew what was going on. He always had to brush them off and come up with excuses until he was more or less sure they wouldn’t take action.</p><p>But oh, how he'd wanted them to.</p><p>So yeah, that teacher had probably felt like that would be Dirk’s ray of light and hope that week. It <em> had  </em>been pretty fucking neat, actually. The blond remembers plugging on his headphones on his side of the bedroom and experimenting with samples and different beats, as Rose watched him in sly amusement from her bed.</p><p>He’d had to fight for the integrity of his gear several times, so teaching Dave was more or less his legacy. He’s glad his brother makes good use of the tables nowadays.</p><p>Dirk wants to ask John things, and that’s unsettling. He licks his lips, tapping a finger rhythmically on the side of his thigh. Before he can ask anything and further compromise his indifference, however, the teeth-grinding voice of the self-appointed party plan leader kicks up again.</p><p>“Attention, everybody present. First of all, we’d like to thank everyone for attending and cooperating with the party me and Ms. Leijon idealized and planned into realization.”</p><p>“Someone <em> really </em>wants that promotion,” Dirk mutters to no one in particular. The light inflection of his voice punctuates the mocking tone of his remark. It’s all very subtle.</p><p>The guy proceeds: “We would like to address some special gratitude for Jane’s relatives and friends for sending in their contributions for a heartfelt tribute to tonight’s valorous guest. If you would be so considerate as to lean away from the board,” he points to some people flocking together before the projection screen, “we can commence our audiovisual presentation.”</p><p>
  <em> …Audiovisual presentation? </em>
</p><p>Dirk’s smirk falls.</p>
<hr/><p>The blond's words leave an aftertaste behind that's somewhat… bitter? It's not just the way Dirk dismisses his own skills in a tone that sounds more… <em> self-sabotaging… </em>than objective. No, there's something else, too. Something deeper in the back of a relatively innocent story.</p><p>...sadness?</p><p>John's eyes land on the Strider's scarred hands for a fleeting instant. It's… was he... <em> shit</em>. He's not sure of what's going on exactly, so he makes the for once wise decision not to pry, although he does feel compelled to say:</p><p>"Still! I mean. You did give Dave something that he loves. Unwavering enough to persist all these years and become his life's passion. So. I don't know, I think that's a pretty fucking awesome thing to give your brother." His eyes do not stop staring intently at the floor even as he smiles.</p><p>Suddenly, there's party buzz again (how many freaking <em> events </em>did they plan?), and John can't help a loud dorky snort at Dirk's ruthless jab at Kankri the brown-nosed reindeer. He's such a recalcitrant douche.</p><p>As they roll down the nearly cinema-sized screen, however, his eyes become like dinner plates with tiny drops of deep blue in the middle.</p><p>“Oh shit. Fuck shit. I forgot they asked for pictures of Jane, never even thought they'd do this. Um. You didn’t by any chance <em> neglect </em>to connect the projector, right?” Anxiously awaiting any sign of rebuttal from the blond’s expression, and finding nothing, John quickly gives up any hope of getting away from this with his dignity intact. “Oook then. We better brace ourselves for whatever may be coming. Fuck.”</p><p>Slides start rolling. Jane on her first day of school, all perk and toothy grin. Jane splashing around in puddles as a toddler, in ducky boots. John and Jane, out in the yard, with a toad they found and made a little cardboard house for and named <em> Blob</em>. Sweet.</p><p>…</p><p>Little Jane in her little blue dress at the beach, sitting next to chubby baby John in tiny swim trunks. <em> Less. Sweet.  </em></p><p>“Oh god.”</p><p>John knows it’s only gonna get worse, so he preemptively hides his already mortified face between his hands.</p>
<hr/><p>Dirk doesn’t answer because he’s too busy visibly cringing.</p><p>He’s too much of an atheist to pray that nobody managed to get ahold of some photographic evidence of her highschool age, because back then they were even closer than they are nowadays. So he just sits there and hopes for the best, flashes of his own teenage era playing behind his eyes.</p><p>The slideshow starts and Dirk momentarily forgets his dread in favor of seeing Jane’s early signs of ambition stamped all over her face. She looked like she was a handful as a kid. Still is, but in different ways, he supposes.</p><p>After a certain height, a little boy starts showing up in the pictures along with her. Oh, so that’s John. The blond peeks sideways and can’t help a quiet chuckle at the unabashed mortification on the man’s face.</p><p>He can’t resist. “Nice fashion choices, Egbert. I just think the arm fringes on that duck costume were a little out of character.”</p><p>Unfortunately for him, though, none of his pleas to the laws of physics or string theory returned with any results, so his time came. After some more pictures of Jane growing into a sassy girl and good-spirited teenager and John evolving into a stumbling blob of dorkiness, they get to her highschool days. Aside from personal experiences, there are some from class trips, school presentations and contests and some special events.</p><p>Aaaaand, unsurprisingly, there’s Dirk. Fucking christ.</p><p>The first gem is a spontaneous snap of Jane with a paper pirate hat in her desk making a mock salute, which is priceless, but there’s also a bored looking blond sitting right behind her staring in annoyance at the camera. His hair is relatively short and of a bright light shade, the longer parts falling to the side, partially covering his amber eyes…which are shielded by rectangular, crooked glasses.</p><p>As they appear together more often, his form simultaneously improves and decays. As the years progress, his face and neck gets blessed with acne and, for a period of time, he had to use fucking braces. No wonder he looked either angry or uncomfortable in most of the shots. It gets only slightly better after he stops trying to dress straight.</p><p>One that’s especially embarrassing is a selfie of hers, an impish grin visible in the corner of the picture, framing a dinner table fully covered in notebooks, laptops, stray paper sheets and school materials, with a slumbering Dirk flopped atop an open binder. He has his arms crossed under his head and he’s drooling with a frown, glasses askew on his forehead. When did she even snap that photo? And <em> who the fuck did she send that to????????? </em>He’s gonna murder whoever put that pic there.</p><p>Dirk can’t look anymore. He tears his eyes away and zooms in on a table a few ways off their current position. “I’m gonna get something to drink,” he declares, for some fucking reason, and walks off in a hurry.</p>
<hr/><p>John keeps wincing behind his hands, still watching from in between his fingers for some stupid reason, through shots of embarrassing Halloween costumes and pictures with way too few clothes that are somehow acceptable because he was a baby (like shit they fucking are). He’s in so many of them, holy crap, it’s like he’s shared half his life with his sister of something, jeez.</p><p>But there’s someone else around who’s shared the other half. </p><p>His blue eyes widen notably, hopefully not so obvious behind his hands, when the dorkiest version of a teenage of Dirk appears on the screen. Oh wow. Not his best era. The blond looks… displeased, it is strongly implied that he agrees with that sentiment. </p><p>…at least he’s not alone in his humiliation?</p><p>It’s very difficult to imagine the man next to him in any context other than chiseled statuesque swaggering grace, but there it is, right in front of their eyes. There’s a burning desire within him to tease the Strider back after he ragged on his duck outfit (what kind of merciful god would have allowed that to happen), and he allows himself a couple gleeful pokes at first.</p><p>“So. You were a dork,” John snorts. “It’s ok man, your secret’s safe with me. I don’t know about the other 999 people around though.” He’s about to smirk jokingly in the blond’s direction, when the man just plain and simple turns around and leaves. Fuck. Uh.</p><p>John sits through a couple more pictures while his heart is busy dropping to his feet, and. Oh. There’s something… yeah. Dirk has a lot less scars in some of those pictures than the brunette knows him to have. Ok, he. Is allowed to be upset at people observing him unabashedly without any right or proper context. </p><p>
  <em> Son of a fucking bitch. </em>
</p><p>That… that was probably rougher than he initially thought. <em> Shit</em>. John has difficulty swallowing through his shame while his mouth twists into a sad grimace. A few more silent, frozen, lonely seconds pass him by among the lively crowd. </p><p>Maybe he could also use a fucking drink.</p><p>…</p><p>Dirk has his back turned to him when he arrives at the boozing station. With a quick indiscriminating look around he grabs a glass of ready-made pinkish-looking cocktail, hoping it’s not someone’s dregs left behind, and calls out to the Strider with a knot in his stomach. “Hey.”</p><p>His hand lifts the cup up in an already awkward toast, as the blond turns towards him, still looking pissed.</p><p>“To our dorktastic childhood years.” He barely has time to chug down the whole cup and hiss, before there’s a slender hand pulling him from one of his suspenders, a sassy voice saying something that vaguely sounds like <em> ’yo egb can i talktya’ </em> and then Roxy Lalonde is dragging him away to a distant corner of the room.</p>
<hr/><p>As Dirk cowardly absconds in a quest for liquid anesthetics, he vaguely registers John saying something, probably a payback comment for the duck costume jab. Yeah, ok, he saw it coming a mile back. Whatever.</p><p>It’s not that bad, even. Dirk must know for real, what, five people in this party. The other hundred or so won’t even remember him in those pics when they walk out of the building. He’s said it himself, there are more people gathering around the liquor table by the minute, they probably don’t give a shit.</p><p>Still, the awkward boy from the past isn’t the best version of himself, which is the one he wishes to present at all times, regardless of what ‘best’ means to other people. That barely-passing teen was all over the place, had no fucking clue as to who he wanted to be, apart from his siblings’ guardian. At some point, he’d thought he wanted to be a kid, too, but life had different plans.</p><p>Doesn’t matter anymore. Dirk frowns at a bottle with something filled with a dark yellow liquid. Looks dangerously alcoholic, perfect. He pours himself half a boner-murdering plastic cup and throws it back, but immediately scrunches up his eyebrows in distaste. What the hell is that thing? Tastes like honey… whiskey? Jesus, why did they bring something so specific?</p><p>There’s a voice calling him again. John followed him.</p><p>The blond turns, face still twisted into a sour look. He doesn’t get a chance to toast, though, because Roxy swoops in and swipes John from him.</p><p>Dirk watches as the man sputters and stumbles to catch up to her for a minute too long, then forces himself to tear his gaze away. Is she really going for Egbert?</p><p>…well, he knows John’s address, just in case. Dirk pours himself another ‘glass’.</p><p> </p><p>“Quite the trip, wasn’t it?”</p><p>The Strider looks to the side to find Jane swaying up to him. She can be quite the drinker when she wants to, but he has a feeling she’s just giddy.</p><p>“Are you talking about the one down memory lane we were just spontaneously and brutally dragged naked through or the history we’ve had so far?”</p><p>The woman laughs at his exaggeration. “Not everyone is as attached to self-image as you, Strider. It was endearing. Thank you for contributing to the show.”</p><p>Dirk crosses his arms with a smile. “I had no part in this madness.”</p><p>“I have no trouble believing that,” she sustains a smile, looking around the room before raising an eyebrow at him. “I suppose you’re not the first person that comes to mind when one thinks of asking about emotional mementos. I’m afraid you don’t exactly fit the archetype, dear.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re on about, Crocker,” he smirks, taking another sip of his sugary whiskey, “I’m yet to find someone as entangled in the relentless tendrils of pathos as I ever so often find myself choked on.”</p><p>Jane laughs heartily then, and it feels just like old times. “I’m glad I can always count on your grotesque sense of humor in overly bureaucratic situations. As a matter of fact, thank you for the gift. I’ll be sure to make good use of them.”</p><p>Dirk nods, satisfied, and the woman smiles warmly. Then, she looks somewhere in the distance, appearing to mull over something. “Still, though I am over the moon with this surprise, my greatest gift this year was growing closer to John again. Seeing those photos, I remember how we were raised glued at the hip. And while I’m aware that, as you grow into adulthood, you end up following your own ways, I still missed that connection I used to have with him.” The blond hums in sympathy and pointedly does not think of Rose. “I’m glad I could make it back in time for our birthday, at least! Although I’m not sure how to celebrate with him yet.”</p><p>The man blinks and turns his head towards her. “…‘Our’?”</p><p>Jane meets his gaze with a fond look. “Why yes, don’t you remember? Though we’re some years apart, we are birth date partners, hoho!”</p><p>No, he didn’t remember, because he’d grabbed every useless information regarding his sister’s ex and tossed it into a pile heading for the junkyard, but yeah, he recalls attending a mixed birthday party for the two.</p><p>So tomorrow is John’s birthday. Isn’t it weird that it hasn’t come up all day?</p><p>In the end, he settles for light humor. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy any activity carried out with you. Hell, trick him into cleaning the house with you.”</p><p>Jane chuckles, then pats his shoulder to signal she’s stepping away again. “That’s a crafty idea, Strider. Maybe I will!”</p><p>He smirks and tilts his glass in lieu of returning Jane’s wave. His eyes betray him and seek out Roxy in the crowd.</p>
<hr/><p>Roxy Lalonde has just kidnapped a man. Feels good, dude.</p><p>She doesn’t really know what’s going on between John and her big brother, but she’ll probably find out soon. The girl releases her hostage in a free corner in the room and leans on the wall beside John.</p><p>“Heya, J-Egg, how’s it hangin’? We didn’t get a chance to shoot the shit ever since that party at Craig’s loft. Jeff. I dunno, some guy who invited us,” she absently drinks from her cup. “By the way, nice to see you and Dirk gettin’ along. I had a bet going with Dave, but I think I’ll have to tap out. Can’t lose my sweet guitar to sweaty fingers, right?” Roxy smirks.</p><p>Well, no use dancing around it. At least one person in the family gets it.</p><p>“So, you seein’ anyone?”</p>
<hr/><p>John would protest more but he's busy trying not to stumble around, which he supposes is generally true for most of the daily actions in his life, anyways. What the <em> hell </em>is Roxy dragging him away for?!</p><p>Oh. <em> Oh</em>.</p><p>OH SHIT. And he already forgot??! How could he be such an idiot?! What could possibly distract him from that bomb Jade dropped earli-oh.</p><p><b>Oh</b>.</p><p>“I’m… not dating anyone?”</p><p>No, no, nonono, abso-fucking-lutely the wrong way to go!! Especially when he manages to stop wimping out and look at her cute, slightly hopeful face. Shit. You suck so much, John Egbert. Can’t do this, it’s not right.</p><p>“Oh. Oh god. Look Roxy, I. This is a bit uncomfortable. Because…” Because??! Excuses, excuses, he needs EXCUSES. “…Rose. Yeah, that’s it, Rose. She’s your sister, and it seems a little… inappropriate? To be with her sibling?” <em> HUH. DOES IT NOW, </em> his increasingly aware brain screams at him in frustration.</p><p>Observing Roxy <em> most emotive of the StriLondes </em> Lalonde’s dropping expression, John feels, firstly, like royal shit. Then guilty as hell. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to in dismissal, no one does. Holy crap, this is gonna be fucking tough to navigate.</p><p>“Ok, to be fair that’s not… all. As much as previously dating your sister would make being with you pretty fucking weird in my conscience…” <em> WOW, IT WOULD, WOULDN’T IT? WE’RE GONNA THINK ABOUT THAT LONG AND HARD LATER, YOU CAN BE SURE OF THAT. </em> “The thing is…” <em> your brother’s the one that makes me feel like both my heart and my dick are gonna explode </em> seems like the wrong argument here. “I… just don’t think I’m right for you, Roxy. It’s not an excuse.” It kinda is. “I really do mean it. I’m sorry.” He does. And he is. “I hope I’m not making you feel bad… and I always want to be your friend.”</p><p>With truly dejected eyes, John manages to pry his gaze off his own feet and glance back up at her, looking like a puppy that just got kicked in the face after trying to nuzzle you.</p>
<hr/><p>Listen, Lalondes are a lot of things, including hauntingly precise in their intuition. Besides, Roxy knows a half-baked excuse when she hears one. Or several. Damn. Did he catch that Rose excuse from Dirk himself? Is any guy automatically an ineligible bachelor just because he macked on a sibling? Weak.</p><p>Also, she’s not deaf. She was at the party too. Of course, since she’s a sport, she’s not about to call him out on his hypocrisy… yet, at least.</p><p>Roxy shoves her hands in her pants pockets. “‘s cool if you’re not into me, dude, but why do you think you’re ‘not right for me’? Sounds pretty melodramatic.”</p><p>John’s puppy eyes inspire some kind of passionate destructive instinct in her that’s sort of confusing. The girl looks away to some bustling crowd of people. Apparently, they’ve given up on karaoke? Oh, the microphone isn’t working? Too bad.</p><p>Seeing them on their younger days was cute, though. She’d stuck close to Jade and watched her almost literally cry at chubby baby John’s fumbling movements. She and Jake appeared in some family pics too, playing together cheerfully. Something shifted uncomfortably upon seeing her brother in those, too, because she knows the prequels and sequels to the captured moments.</p><p>When some people start flocking to the middle area to encourage a makeshift dance floor, Roxy looks back to John with a smile, waiting for him to finish spilling more flimsy explanations.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Freaking StriLondes. </em>
</p><p>…that's not fair. They are some of John's favorite people in the world.</p><p>But he's getting <em> kind of fucking sick </em> of <em> painful fucking epiphanies </em> jumpstarted by people <em> he can't even bring himself to fucking hate. </em></p><p>...dammit.</p><p>"Roxy… can I tell you something… in confidence." Despite it being formulated as something vaguely resembling a question, her smile and her gentle eyes are really all the response he needs.</p><p>"Lately I… I've just been… having… having-" his voice falters.</p><p>His head spins like he might faint. Don't be fucking ridiculous. Breathe, deep. <em> Nothing's even wrong with you. </em></p><p>John swallows through one final tight lump in his throat, and continues on his way to possibly jump into some kind of grave.</p><p>"Roxy… I haven't told anyone. But I just don't think I'm right for… girls."</p>
<hr/><p>Roxy blinks. Oh. Well, okay, he up and said it, then. She half expected him to skirt around the subject like roughly every man she’s close with and, well, actually, her whole family. But someone’s been doing some thinking, apparently.</p><p>“I got you, dude, don’t worry about it. I won’t tell anyone. I mean, we all have our own pace to figure shit out, right?” She winks at him, even if he probably has no idea why.</p><p>John looks like he’s about to K.O. himself into despair. The party is now a little more scattered, people in groups of acquaintances eating, drinking, starting to dance with the music that’s started up. Jane herself is talking to Jade and Jake. Jade looks thrilled to talk to her. Roxy knows they used to be closer as kids.</p><p>“Hey, you like dancing?” The girl asks after a few seconds of silence. “It’s a party after all, let’s have some fun. I’m cool with being friends, but you gotta have some moves in you when we hit the clubs in the future,” Roxy flashes him a grin and doesn’t wait for John’s answer, just grabs his wrists and leads him to the space where people are flocking to dance.</p><p>There’s a generic pop-electro playing, which is what you’d expect from a bunch of corporate chumps trying to organize a hip party. Roxy has half a mind to dig up the equip for the sound and put some rad sounds to get her freak on. Maybe even do some promo for Dave, if she’s inspired.</p><p>She starts swinging to the beat and looks over at John, who looks as uncoordinated as a sleep deprived juggalo monkey with labyrinthitis riding an unicycle aboard a ship. Poor guy’s still too wound up.</p><p>“Man, you could use some more dancing in front of the mirror, Egbert,” Roxy laughs and takes hold of his wrists again, moving them in sync with her body. “Theeere we go.”</p>
<hr/><p>Sometimes, John Egbert can be pretty smart and perceptive.</p><p>(Or maybe those times are just flukes.)</p><p>Whatever the case, he feels pretty damn happy to have chosen <em> Roxy </em> for this particular… revelation? Kinda moment? Or whatever. No need to dwell on it. Also, he felt like he owed her the truth, first of all. She <em> is </em>pretty fucking cool to him, and to anyone around her that he’s ever observed, really.</p><p>That fortunate feeling is so strong it doesn’t even<em> completely die </em>when Roxy drags him to dance. <em> Almost</em>, but not quite. </p><p>John is <b>a bad dancer</b> . You could find more grace on the dancefloor from an oiled-up human pyramid of epileptics all trying to eat from the same bowl of noodles. And still, he lets himself be guided by the magnanimous Lalonde, <em>trying </em> to keep up with her fluid moves, double or triple left feet and uneven rhythm and all.</p><p>When she holds his wrists trying to help, bless her optimistic heart, the brunette can’t help but smile wide at her. Without thinking, he pulls her closer for a brief but warm hug, and speaks into it. “Thanks, Roxy. For real. It’s been weird as shit, and you’ve been super cool. You’re a great friend.”</p>
<hr/><p>Roxy laughs, returning the hug heartily. "Anytime, man. I gotchu."</p><p>They pull back and continue swaying in whatever may resemble dancing. Roxy loses herself in the music as much as the bland tune allows as encouragement for him to do the same. When she opens her eyes a while later, her eyes meet someone staring right at them, then turning away in quick succession.</p><p>A few thoughts run through Lalonde’s head. “Yo John, Imma hit the loo real quick, don’t get lost,” she tells him, patting his shoulder as she passes by and dodges the dancing suits in her way.</p><p>She thinks it’s endearing how Dirk pretends not to see her making an undeterred line towards him.</p><p>“‘Sup, bro,” she greets him, unable to hide a little smirk.</p><p>“Hey,” he sips on a cup of something alcoholic-looking. “What is it?”</p><p>“Just wondering why you’re here all lonely and grumpy. Wanna join us on the dance floor?” The blond furrows his brow and the girl laughs. Yeah, she figures.</p><p>“I don’t want to be third wheel to my sister’s date,” he says, looking away.</p><p>Wow, a mention in the third sentence. It’s ridiculous how Dirk can be easy to read and the guy’s not even aware of that.</p><p>“Nah, he turned me down.” Roxy pauses, pondering how far she should meddle. “Looks like he’s got something else going on right now, so.”</p><p>The elder brother’s frown deepens. “Is that so.”</p><p><em> Oh my GOD, Dirk. </em> She can’t help chuckling. “Yeah, it is so. Anyway, you have any idea where’s the ladiez’?”</p><p>He looks behind her, then gestures a little to the left. “Follow this wall, then look right. Should be right there in front of you.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Roxy shoots him a wink and saunters over to the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>…What was <em> that </em>about? Dirk is left frowning in confusion to himself with a hellish concoction he managed to mix. Don’t ask, you don’t want to know.</p><p>It’s past the time he’s previously affixed to go home. He partly wants to leave, trust Jane to secure his gear back at her place, but something’s still itching on the back of his mind.</p><p>His eyes lock onto John, who’s moving awkwardly in the dance area. Something just doesn’t add up, or does, in a reversed kind of crooked way. Fine, he’ll settle this before calling a car home.</p><p>Dirk slips between the dancers and creeps up on John from behind, grabbing his wrist. “You’re coming with me. Now,” he says, echoing the command from the first night they hooked up in a much less aggressive tone. This time, it’s more assertive and impatient.</p><p>He pulls John out of the crowd and leads him to the outskirts of the party area, dipping into a hallway to get them to the empty offices, away from the bustling main room. In the end, they reach Jane’s office, far enough that the music is a muffled hum when Dirk closes the door behind them.</p><p>The room is dark, but the large window panes on one of the walls allow enough luminosity from the city lights to provide some sort of spatial orientation to make out shapes somewhat decently. Dirk lets him go and walks up to him.</p><p>“I don’t get you.” His eyes are alight behind the sunglasses. “I thought you liked Roxy. What the hell is your problem?”</p>
<hr/><p>Swaying mindlessly on the dance floor (waiting for Roxy to come back, he guesses), John gulps down the last of his weirdly sugary cocktail. Strawberry cough syrup daiquiri? Something like that, probably engineered by the ubiquitous company throwing the party. Maybe he’ll get something better to drink with Roxy when she comes back. Maybe some sort o- what?</p><p>His wrist gets firmly grabbed but not by a small slender hand this time, but by a strong, calloused one, and as soon as he can process whose it is, the brunette’s skin is tingling from the contact. And then there’s that same (admittedly softer) order, drawled by the same dark voice as last time, too reminiscent of things past to not send an immediate jolt of electricity down John’s spine. He gets gladly dragged away deep into the bowels of the corporate office.</p><p>The door closes behind them, leaving them alone, together, in the dusk only lit by the scenic night skyline. Dirk walks up to him, going a little further even after John’s back inadvertently hits the wall. They’re so fucking close. It feels like a lifetime has passed since they last were so close.</p><p>
  <em> I thought you liked Roxy. </em>
</p><p>What? No.</p><p>“No you didn’t” comes out of his mouth in response before John can even consider stopping himself. “No.”</p><p>There’s an intense span of silent, darkened blue vs. deep orange eye-contact.</p><p>“What the hell is <em> my </em> problem? What is <em> your </em>problem, Dirk?” It’s not anger. It’s tension. </p><p>Suddenly, he can’t take it anymore. He needs to know, to hear, a sign, something that at least vaguely orients him instead of making him progressively more confused with each wavering step. Just. <em> Something</em>.</p><p>With a gentle but swift motion, John, yes, <em> dares </em>to take those Kamina shades off of Dirk’s faces, just so he can pierce those tangerine eyes with his gaze.</p><p>“What do you <em> actually </em>want, Dirk?”</p>
<hr/><p>None of John’s answers are the ones Dirk wants to hear. He couldn’t have missed harder if he had smashed a foul ball right into his teammate’s face. And what the hell is with people wanting to take off his glasses? Can’t a guy be cool in peace?</p><p>There’s that water surface kind of tension from when a glass is filled to the brim and anything can make it spill. Dirk doesn’t know whether Egbert is taunting him, prodding him to see how far he can go so he can mock him for it, even if earlier today it had seemed…</p><p>Without his glasses, he has to double-guard his expression. He sustains his frown as a standard expression.</p><p>John is asking what it is that Dirk wants, even if this is not about him.</p><p>But his eyes betray him and flicker downwards, locking onto John’s lips. Shit.</p><p>Actually, that is probably a better venue than the one he was about to go down. Instead of answering, the blond just leans forward and pushes his mouth against the other man’s. With one more step, he ends up pressed flush against John’s body, pinning him to the wall.</p><p>Dirk has never felt so confused in his life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay, holiday season b busy! As an apology treat, have a double chapter update this week! &gt;:D And happy holidays! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's real fear when the Strider hesitates, unsure. John’s actually… afraid. Afraid that this is gonna be just another <em> trapping you against the wall menacingly </em> scenario, even if Dirk’s observant demeanor seems way softer this time, and as he seems to ponder his eyes skip down to John’s m- </p><p>Their lips melting together interrupts that thought like a ton of bricks falling on a soap bubble.</p><p>Heart thrumming against the other man’s chest in a way that has no chance of being inconspicuous, John's eyes immediately flutter shut, and it’s hard not to downright moan into that kiss immediately. It’s actually fucking impossible.</p><p>John lets his hand (and the shades it’s holding) fluidly slip into the blond's pants back pocket, exclusively for the sake of the accessory’s safekeeping and no other reason. As much as it may linger a little extra, that hand reluctantly promptly returns to brace him behind the Strider’s back, his other hand coming up to land on the side of Dirk’s softly freckled face.</p><p>The brunette takes a moment, when the blond’s lips delectably slip down to his chin, to talk, if soft and shy.</p><p>“I guess it’s only fair to tell you what <em> I want</em>.”</p><p>In the smallest pause ever that seems eternal and terrifying, still trying to control his ragged breath, John does his best to measure his words, brows tightly-knit, even though his concentration is ably shot by his blood rapidly rushing from his brain to other parts of his body.</p><p>“…I want you to stay here. Please.” The last part comes out like a breathless sigh.</p><p>As if to reinforce that point independently, his body arches off the wall and presses harder into the blond’s, while his arms tighten around broad shoulders. He sucks a little harder onto those amazing scarred lips for emphasis, while trying to ignore his brain’s chants of <em> please, for the love of god, stay right there and don’t you dare stop fucking doing this.</em> John dives back fiercely into their kiss.</p><hr/><p>Not for the first time, but surely in a completely new setting, John enthusiastically reciprocates the kiss. That’s a somewhat better answer. If he attempts to ‘no homo’ out of this <em> again</em>, Dirk’s murdering the man in cold blood.</p><p>His hands fall to the brunette’s waist to lock him in place, even if he has a feeling that’s not necessary, judging by the way John tangles his limbs around him and goes as far as touching his ass. When did he get so unapologetically bold?</p><p>The blond pulls back when John speaks up, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.</p><p>“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, even if ‘here’ is an ambiguous deictic in this context. No matter, it leaves more room for interpretation. In any case, it’s a remark not meant to prompt any further debate, because there are more pressing matters requiring his attention at the moment.</p><p>Such as John’s sweet, hungry lips on his. Dirk is fueled by the sheer neediness of his touches, hands shifting restlessly, seemingly wanting to grab whatever they can. The way his own body reacts to Egbert’s desperation is almost embarrassing. He hopes it doesn’t show on his unshielded face… too much, at least.</p><p>One of his hands comes up to fit on the side of John’s face as Dirk cranes his head to deepen the kiss. To balance it out, his other arm slides around the back to grab John’s ass over his pants. Fuck, there are far too many layers between them for the temperature of their bodies.</p><p>When Dirk pulls him closer by the grip on his lower cheek, he’s informed of the exact state of ‘agitation’ his molecules are in. The blond even has to briefly detach his mouth to huff out a noisy pant before picking up the energetic kissing again. Yeah, this is getting more compromising by the second, but he doesn’t really want to stop.</p><p>Jesus fuck, it’s his best friend’s birthday party and he’s having a steamy make-out session with her kid brother <em> in her own office</em>. After his little sister confirmed her interest in the same guy. That’s some pretty fucking questionable level of morality right there.</p><p>Which… he supposes isn’t news for him. Fuck it, he’s set on driving John insane right now.</p><hr/><p>“Uhn~”</p><p>…</p><p>Well, that’s a noise John never thought would come out of his mouth. And into another mouth. The mouth of the man that’s kissing him dizzy at the moment. Holy hell.</p><p>…there’s no time for this shit now. Or thinking of how it was caused by the blond's lethally serious-sounding statement. Dirk’s tongue demands his attention, thirsty and surprisingly playful, breaking into his mouth gently to tease. Dirk’s hand cradling his face closer ties a tight knot in his stomach, which at the same time sends a delicious jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. </p><p>When the tips of their tongues slide over each other wet and tingling, the blond’s arm snakes around his body to rest a hand at his ass cheek, then firmly pulls him closer, pressing <em> way more </em> than their hips together… <em> fffuck. </em></p><p>John has to draw back to take a gasping breath, his head swimming and woozy from the contact overload. It’s not dizzying in the way that it’s been before, head chock-full of contradicting thoughts, clashing feelings and insecurity. It’s… the most fucking pure arousal and exhilaration. The brunette opts to hide in the crook of the Strider’s neck, breathing heavily against his burning-hot skin, having more and more trouble to keep quiet.</p><p>It’s hard to ignore how much someone wants you when his mouth, hands, eyes, breath, his whole body and every one of his horny advances are squarely devoted to you.</p><p>“Dirk…”</p><p>After a particularly tight grind rut dry-hump (whatever, brain doesn’t need all that blood) John slinks his arm in between their bodies and unabashedly grabs that prime Strider dick. <em> Hard</em>. He feels the blond jolt, but simply holds his gaze with starving deep ocean blue eyes, as his face splits into a lop-sided grin. <em> Sorry to be so direct, Dirk, but I might actually fucking die</em>, he thinks as he closes his eyes and throws his head back against the wall, delirious in the man’s arms.</p><p>Dirk Strider is driving John so goddamn fucking insane.</p><hr/><p>God damn it. What the fuck are they doing? And why is it so blissfully delicious?</p><p>Admittedly, it’s been a while since he’s had this much compatibility with someone in sex. Maybe that’s the decisive factor, because Dirk is not exactly desperate. Yeah, that makes sense.</p><p>John presents the perfect balance between challenging and willing to get him going, to the point they’re doing this in a public space yet fucking again. Damn.</p><p>Dirk hisses when he feels the man squeeze him over his clothes, throwing back his head momentarily. It’s painfully insufficient for the flaring arousal coursing through him at the moment. His amber eyes crack open again to stare at John. From the bastard’s cocky expression, he’s aware of it, even if he’s not that better off.</p><p>In retaliation, he rolls his hips with more pressure against the brunette’s, clenching his teeth not to make a sound along with him. His gaze catches the straps of his suspenders and Dirk reaches up to slip them off John’s shoulders, letting them hang beside him. He proceeds to slide his hands up under the man’s shirt, feeling up his torso as he leans in for another intense kiss.</p><p>Ok, so this is happening. Like, actually happening. Cool.</p><p>Wait, no, they’re in Jane’s office. She’s absolutely going to know what happened here if they soil the room. Shit, his dick is almost tearing through his jeans, they can’t go out there again.</p><p>His mind helpfully provides some previous intelligence about the floor layout and he pulls back to glance at the corridor leading to the intern’s office (previously John’s).</p><p>“Get over here,” he orders, pulling John backwards by his ridiculous bow tie and wrist.</p><hr/><p>If John had to choose the hottest, most heavenly and lascivious feeling in existence on the spot, it would be the touch of Dirk’s hands crawling under his shirt.</p><p>(He’ll change his mind in a minute though.)</p><p>There’s something fucking mystical about getting slowly and partially undressed by Dirk Strider, or maybe his brain is deranged from getting fully swamped with endorphins, the point is, the sensual feeling of those wanton, lustful fingers slowly and gently tracing up his dammit <em> why the hell are they stopping</em>.</p><p>His drunken as hell (but not from alcohol) eyes look up at Dirk, questioning and begging, to finally and way-too-slowly realize he’s examining his surroundings. Uh?</p><p>Oh <b>fuck</b>, they’re in Jane’s office.</p><p>Those hands are coming back down and no, no no please, no stopping, <em> fuck </em>, but soon he’s getting a categorical command in that throaty voice so yeah, ok, honestly he’d follow that man all the way to hell and spread legs for him there, even if he wasn’t being firmly dragged by his collar right now.</p><p>On their way backwards to wherever, John, in his infinite grace and agility, stumbles and almost topples onto his ass, being caught at the last second by a strong arm around his waist and… while he hangs off the blond's body, all his measly weight supported by all those stupidly attractive muscles, he irrationally, indescribably deems it the best feeling in the world. </p><p>(That judgement won’t stick long, either.)</p><p>He finally gets to stop almost tripping every two steps when the back of his thighs hits something, eventually revealed to be his desk. Former desk. Wait, whose the hell is it n- oh like he gives a flying shit. With his ass firmly planted on the desktop, after pushing something unidentified that came crashing loudly off the table and that he couldn’t care less about, John pulls Dirk from his shirt right in between his legs, where he belongs.</p><p><em> Perfect</em>.</p><p>Unless.</p><p>The brunette’s limber fingers quickly undo the last couple buttons of that tight purple shirt, sneaking his own hands underneath with a sensuous caress, and trailing them with soft, wet kisses up Dirk’s stomach.</p><hr/><p>Navigating John backwards was a bad idea, Dirk decides after the brunette manages to trip on every existent and non-existent object on the way to the adjacent room. He idly wonders how he fares in sports, then quickly dismisses that train of thought because they’ve managed to find a better spot to continue their hand-fumbling sloppy kisses.</p><p>Except they aren’t really sloppy, because each man knows exactly what he wants, and they’re both going to take it from the other. And enjoy it. Thoroughly.</p><p>Even if Dirk wanted, though, he’s not entirely sure he’d be able to wrench himself from John, given his tight grip on him with his arms and legs. Then, he’s kissing up his torso and the blond’s watching him with parted lips.</p><p>After a few moments of allowing John to finish unbuttoning his shirt completely and trail his mouth all the way up to his collarbones, Dirk grabs his face and leans down for a deep kiss again. Every time their lips meet, a bolt of electricity runs down his spine. It’s pretty addictive, and he’s vaguely afraid of what that might mean.</p><p>As their tongues tangle frantically, his hands reach out to undo John’s goddamn lousy tie and toss it on the floor unceremoniously. Now he can undo the buttons in his stupid shirt too, so he can grip and bite John’s lanky ass body more properly.</p><p>When he’s done, Dirk pushes the man down to lie on the table, knocking some more stuff over in the process. Who even needs a keyboard, anyway? Use some goddamn telekinesis to type, asshole.</p><p>He licks his lips, looking down at the feast before him. John’s already pretty flushed and rumpled, begging to be wrecked. Good. Dirk leans down and starts leaving suckles down his chest, all the way to the start of his V-line. Then, he backtracks and flicks his tongue over one of his nipples as he looks up at the brunette’s expression, testing the waters.</p><hr/><p>
  <em> No homo time is thoroughly over, John. </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Fucking Idiot.</em> </b>
</p><p>It is one of the rare occasions his brain talks to himself, completely outraged at his long-standing denial just from the sheer ridiculousness of <em> how fucking good everything feels right now. </em></p><p>Even when he's not being touched.</p><p>Even when he's just laid back on the desk simply to serve as the object of Dirk's predatory gaze. A feral yet soft expression, because that's apparently possible, stroking down his body and undressing him even further than he already is. Which is not that much. Not enough at least.</p><p>John hazily muses that, with that strength, Dirk could rip his clothes off within two seconds and be done with it. <em> It </em> being staying dressed in way too many clothes for the stuff he'd like to be doing two seconds from now at the latest.</p><p>The blond has different plans for him, however.</p><p>The brunette's about ready to fumble with his own shirt, when he feels that mouth.</p><p>
  <em> That fucking mouth. </em>
</p><p>Literally?</p><p>He can't think. Or breathe in, after the first gasp.</p><p>He tenses up, practically digging his nails into the wooden tabletop, as those lips and tongue tease down his body, slow and agonizing, then back up, even more excruciating cause <em> getting further from where he'd like him</em>, though John is still happy to feel him close the distance between them either way, wanting to catch the other man's mouth aga--!!!</p><p><em> Shit</em>. </p><p>It takes him a moment to process <em> what the actual fuck </em> gave him that hot feeling currently coiling tight in his belly. He watches through his eyelashes, mouth slack and agape, how Dirk's burning ember eyes lock onto him and measure his reaction to that lick.</p><p><em> "Shit~" </em> his brain unhelpfully makes him reiterate with an out loud shudder. </p><p>Apparently quite satisfied with that, the Strider proceeds to treat John's nipple like the most delicious tip of an ice cream. Also to rile John up nearly out of his mind, taking his breath away even further.</p><p>He sure can moan though.</p><p>After trying to keep himself quiet by jamming his own fingers in his mouth, and promptly giving up after deeming it hopeless, he simply accepts to lose all control of his body. His hands come up to fist into the blond's platinum hair, not before savagely yanking that stupid shirt off of Dirk's body though, wanting to feel all of him, closer, more, fucking <em> please</em>. </p><p>He pulls that mouth tighter against him, wondering in delight how something can feel so fucking amazing, where has this been all his life, why did no one ever tell him th- oh wait, nevermind.</p><p>Dirk's resplendent gaze follows his every reaction and it makes John want to <em> devour him. </em> God, he's so fucking gorgeous. And that's still a weird thought to have about a man, but seriously <em> fuck that shit </em>, because he hasn't been made to feel this amazing in his life and that's all his mind can take right now.</p><p>His legs hook tight around Dirk's body, his toes curl, his hand scratches at that muscular back, he feels like he might bite his own bottom lip off, until even that's not working anymore and his eyes roll back in his head, deliriously overstimulated, his body begging to make all sort of unrestrained, embarrassingly loud noises, and he just <em> lets it. </em></p><p>Uncoordinatedly rolling his hips into whatever rock-hard part of the blond he has access to, he's not even sure anymore, and unable to articulate proper words, John regrettably thinks in between hisses and whimpers that if this keeps going, things might end abruptly and early.</p><hr/><p>Somewhere amidst the ever-churning storm of thoughts inside his mind, Dirk muses that it figures John is this enthusiastic about sex, considering the blond’s likely the first man he’s been with. A bitter part of his mind sends a whole-hearted ‘fuck you’ to heteronormativity as he lets his shirt fall to the floor – after John almost wrenches it from him – and goes back to ravaging the man with his mouth.</p><p>He’s pretty fucking delicious, especially with how eagerly he’s responding to Dirk’s touches. Should they worry about being loud? Nah. No one would dare to look for the source of that kind of sound in a party… probably.</p><p>Speaking of which, he wonders how far he should go while being in this kind of environment. John looks almost irresistibly fuckable like this, but once again the conditions are not ideal for that kind of thing. Damn, Dirk’s going to start carrying around an emergency stock of lube and condoms to fuck John in unexpected places.</p><p>Which is a compromising thought. Thank fuck it’s just in his head.</p><p>John buckles and drawls out a loud moan and his body moves of its own accord. Dirk pulls back and latches his hand onto the brunette’s fly, fumbling for a second before popping and unzipping it open and pulling hard at his jeans all the way down to his ankles. He takes a second to smirk at how wet his boxers are until…</p><p>“Seriously?” Dirk’s gaze falls flat and he raises an eyebrow up at John. “<em>Ghostbusters</em>, Egbert?” He sounds almost offended, but hooks his fingers in the outrageous article of clothing and pulls it down as well, leaving John bare-assed on the desk. That’s better.</p><p>His focus quickly shifts, though, because John’s erection is twitching and leaking right in front of him. Dirk closes his hand around it and strokes it slowly, breathing softly through his mouth as he looks down at the writhing figure of the man that’s been driving him nuts. His own dick is throbbing in his pants, but he can’t quite bring himself to tear his hands from John at the moment.</p><hr/><p>After a few extra seconds longer than it would usually take, due to his increasingly blurry capacity for concentration, it becomes apparent that John’s being stripped naked from the waist down. A relieved sigh escapes his mouth when his throbbing erection is freed from its <em> also increasingly </em> tight denim cage. His dick twitches at Dirk’s smug look while observing the state the brunette’s body is in.</p><p>In retrospect, he wishes he’d worn a different pair of undies today, but. Whatever.</p><p>He’d quip back, he really would, he’d <em> love to</em>, but there’s a gentle calloused hand fisting his dick. So there goes that idea.</p><p>Although he really should make an effort before… before-</p><p>“Aah, god, Dirk!!”</p><p>It’s such a sweet torture, that slow pumping, bringing him way too close to the edge but not over. He wants to spread his legs for him so bad, but they’re trapped in a twisted fabric vice that he does his best to kick off, unsuccessfully. In between deep moans, he frees one of two hands that were holding onto the desk for dear life and latches to the Strider’s forearm, not braking him, not rushing, completely incapable of deciding if he needs him to stop or hurry the fuck up.</p><p>The view of his flushed, rock-hard cock leaking precum all over the blond’s dexterous fingers is not exactly <em> pacifying</em>, so John opts for drunkenly gazing right into those ravenous amber eyes. The prediction that <em> that would be even more fucking intense </em> never manages to cross his mind beforehand. Fuck fuck <b>fuck </b>he wants him so bad-</p><p>His other hand comes up to try and pull Dirk from the waist of his pants forward, snatch his zipper, grope, rub, something, <em> unsuccessfully</em>. He’s too far, John’s unfocused, his dick’s burning deliciously, all of the above, and interrupting a muted <em> dammit </em>the brunette whines almost pathetically in the blond’s hands, arching his back against the desk in both pleasure and frustration.</p><p>Oratory skills need to come back into play<em> now or never. </em></p><p>“Dirkdirkdirk <b>fuck, </b> <b> <em>Dirk!</em> </b> Stop stop stop, please, stop.” That counts as an almost sentence, right?</p><p>As the yanking slows down, John gives him his best bottom toyboy begging eyes, not that he knows that, and, with a pout, he makes his plea.</p><p>“I want you to fuck me.”</p><hr/><p>That sentence can cure erectile dysfunction, Dirk is one hundred percent sure.</p><p>He does hit the brakes, though, pondering their situation. It wouldn’t be the first time they just went at it in a less than ideal place, but he’d much rather fuck John into a bed and take his sweet fucking time with him this time. He’s not sure why, but knows he’s got the stamina for that after all that building tension in the afternoon.</p><p>Dirk considers it for a second, biting his lip, then decides, against his rational judgement, to listen to his dick. “We’ll get to that later, don’t worry,” he drawls, but removes his hand from John’s shaft to work his own pants open.</p><p>After he’s lowered his bottom clothing down his thighs, releasing his flushed hard-on, he steps closer to the brunette again and takes them both into his hands. “Fuck,” Dirk breathes out, sliding his palms around both their cocks. He’s glad to opt for something simpler, because he’s not sure he’d be able to last long like this. What the hell, it’s like he’s a fucking teenager again.</p><hr/><p>That hand’s withdrawal makes John have to stifle an urgent sob against the palm of his hand. Shit, he’s so desperate it’s embarrassing. Also, Dirk said… no. Still, his tone was… <em> 'later’?  </em>Where are they gonna be <em> later? </em>Is he- shit, dick twitching again, ok gotta breathe. Breathe.</p><p>…but then he gets to watch Dirk get to work on his fly, hook his thumbs under his clothes, finally liberating that deliciously thick cock of his. Fuck. Ok, no breathing.</p><p>Even less when the blond starts rubbing both their erections together with <em> both hands. </em> With a trembling shudder, John considers dropping dead on the spot for a second, then shoots up to sit at the edge of the desk, getting Dirk some prime access to the area he seems most interested in, plus giving himself a great vantage point for all things sizzling hot Strider. He holds on to the blond’s waist for a few seconds, looking down mesmerized, panting at the view until that hard wet cock the brunette wants so bad inside of him becomes irresistible. He reaches over and dips two fingers in the moisture over the slit, making a show of drawing them to his mouth, holding that flaming orange gaze as he savors the salty precum.</p><p>It may or may not be the cause of Dirk squeezing them together even harder (smart money’s on <em> yes</em>) and John moans loudly against his broad chest. His legs clamp over the Strider’s hips in a perfect rutting position, which the brunette definitely takes ample advantage of. His arms come up to brace around Dirk’s shoulders, helping him prop up and giving him a first-class ticket to get with that sexy fucking neck. First come sweet kisses and licks (always among gasps and whimpers), then some more spirited sucks and bites, needy but not rough, taking care not to mark him too high to avoid possible awkward looks and questions… for now.</p><p>The blond is appreciative of his attentions, if the strained noises he’s making against John are anything to go by, which only makes the younger one want to grind harder and, goes without fucking saying, pleasure him. Drive him crazy. Make him want the brunette so bad he thinks he’s losing his mind. <em> He needs it. </em></p><p>Shit. John has no idea how to actively pursue any of that, so he aims for the next best thing his sex-saturated brain is allowing him to think of, which is desperately going for every part of Dirk he can reach. </p><p>He pries one of the blond’s hands off their erections, met with some resistance until it becomes clear that John plans to replace it with his, drawing the Strider’s free arm behind his petite body to rest that broad hand over his ass, where it fucking belongs. Also to have some back support but that’s a side-effect. The brunette’s hand gets to work at the base of their dicks right underneath Dirk’s, prompting a hiss. His other arm curls around the Strider’s neck, John suckles and laps his way up that collarbone, jawline, chin, finally catching his mouth once again. </p><p>Their bodies work together symbiotically, grinding and sliding, their hips rolling against each other. Their hands working each other over, each man tugging and milking in competition to drag pants and gasps from the other one and drinking them up, as their joined breaths get faster and shallower. </p><p>Exhilarated, John whines deep into Dirk's mouth before being forced to pull back to breathe, biting down a cry against the blond's shoulder.</p><p>"Dirk, fuck, I'm so close~"</p><hr/><p>Dirk is so used to taking the reins during sex that he’s slightly disoriented by John’s aggressive responses to his touches. For someone assumedly inexperienced, he sure as fuck knows what he wants.</p><p>For a while, the Strider tries to contain him and retain control. Then John licks Dirk’s precum from his fingers and the blond is damn near <em> scared</em>. Jesus fucking christ toppled inside a fountain, <em> who did he get himself into?</em> He’s not sure he’s signed up for this.</p><p>…but he isn’t complaining.</p><p>John attacks his neck and relocates Dirk’s hand to where he wants it, prompting an incredulous chuckle from the taller man. He does comply, however, pulling the brunette closer and moving his hips in time with their fists. It takes a while to find the right rhythm, but they manage to set a joint pace and ride it uphill.</p><p>Frankly, Egbert’s ministrations are quite overwhelming, so Dirk’s thankful when he settles for kissing him sloppily. As it is, in fact, there’s not much grace to how they’re chasing their orgasms, but fuck it. This is just taking the edge off.</p><p>The blond’s hips twitch erratically into their combined grip, his cock leaking unabashedly over their hands and John’s member. If the guy is close, he’s not faring much better, which means it’s time to throw the game around.</p><p>Bracing himself firmly on the desk behind John, Dirk leans in and sucks the patch of skin right below the man’s ear, still breathing heavily, while he shifts his grasp to touch only John’s dick. He thumbs the slit, smearing the coiling precum over the sensitive head before stroking hard and fast to tip him over.</p><hr/><p>What other reaction is there, to having such a delicious fucking mouth suck hungry and desperate on your neck, other than your stomach clenching, your legs shaking, even as thighs clamp down around a smoking hot blond's waist? There isn’t. If there is, John doesn’t (want to) know. </p><p>When did he get rid of the clothes constraining his legs, even? For that matter, when did they get so close to orgasming over each other?! It seems like their lips were joining each other for the first time in a billion years not two minutes ago. Or maybe it was an hour ago. It's hard to tell when all his mind is full of is Dirk.</p><p>Also, of that strong hand he decides to use to torture him <em> exclusively</em>, jerking and squeezing and pumping furiously.  John wants to retaliate, or give back, or all of the above, but he can't coordinate, think or breathe. Their surroundings get beautifully blurry, coming undone in Dirk's skilled fingers.</p><p>His knees buckle. His hand seizes up, trying to go on with the strokes but only succeeding in squeezing the blond's dick a bit extra hard. It's difficult to be aware when his eyes scrunch closed and white-hot pleasure radiates all through his body, overcoming him savagely. </p><p>A hard bite comes down on the Strider's chest, barely muffling an anguished squeal as John comes with a quiver, spilling all over both their dicks, hands and stomachs. </p><p>The sizzling famished look Dirk gifts him with when he manages to hazily look back up, still clutched tight to the older man's shoulder, is <em> even tastier</em>. John, on the other hand, is almost sure the only face he could be making right now is the expressional equivalent of &lt;3.</p><p>Just a few seconds peacefully relishing on that will have to do. It's time to take action, get his hands dirty, use some elbow grease… or whatever flavor of awkward, disorganized thought he was about to come up with next.</p><p>Bottom line, Dirk's still rock-hard and that's so scandalously unacceptable.</p><p>John leans back on his elbow on the table, finally gathering enough motor skills to keep fisting the blond tight but lazily, just taking a minute to enjoy the moment of afterglow and the drop-dead gorgeous view.</p><p>"...finish over me?"</p><p>He's all playful toothy grin and deceptively innocent bright blue eyes, as he watches Dirk pant while trying to regain back his own breath.</p><hr/><p>As a scientist and a philosopher, Dirk has learned to not be easily rattled by unexpected outcomes or patterns from nature and communal living beings in general. At this point, even if unforeseen, he really shouldn't be surprised at anything a human presents him. He's seen his dose of deviant behavior, after all.</p><p>So Dirk really, truly shouldn't be as stunned as he is when, after twisting his body in pleasure barely a minute ago, John meets his entranced gaze with a look just as charged and asks him to <em> come all over him</em>. Yeah, fine, those weren't his exact words, but that's what his tone underlined upon enunciation.</p><p>Does he even realize that the messier he gets, the harder it'll be for him to clean up and pretend they weren't rutting against each other in some random loser's office like there was no tomorrow?</p><p>From the thirst in John's eyes, the answer is yes, he does, but no, he doesn't give a shit.</p><p>It's infuriatingly hot, and Dirk starts to readjust the paradigm to accommodate the fact that Egbert is fucking shameless and not as much in denial as the blond had anticipated. Works for him, he guesses.</p><p>"Since you asked so nicely," he smirks, then leans down to kiss him for a few moments before resting his forehead on the brunette's shoulder.</p><p>He pants as quietly as he can, biting his lip to stifle his groans as he nears his climax. His hands are braced on the desk on each side of John's hips, smearing their combined slick on the polished surface. Whoops.</p><p>Egbert's hands are lither, skinnier than his, smoother, a pianist's hands. They feel amazing on his dick, even if John doesn't know Dirk's exact sweet spots. He's got some of them right, though, much to the blond's chagrin. Well, he supposes he has some secrets to spare.</p><p>"Fuck, John," Dirk gasps, his body twitching to fuck John's hand until he finally topples over with a strained, interrupted moan, clenching his muscles for some drawn-out seconds until they relax again in bliss and he finally exhales a shaky breath.</p><p>The man stays still, recovering, and looks down. Sure enough, there's a splatter of translucent white over John's lower abdomen, mixing with the brunette's own drying load. He pulls back to look down at him, even if his limbs feel a bit sluggish.</p><p>The man's disheveled, sweaty and stained with cum, shirt hanging from his arms, glasses askew, nips still perked and flushed. What's curious is that his cock, though limp, doesn't seem completely sated. Dirk licks his lips.</p><p>Yeah, it's an undeniably alluring view.</p><p>The tangerine eyes trail back up to deep sea blue ones. It immediately gives him the urge to look away, which makes him remember the shades in his fucking pocket. They're probably alright.</p><p>His vision mercifully latches on to something else, so he leans forward and opens the drawer under the desk. There's a packet of travel tissues. Thank fuck for stuck-up corporate employee habits.</p><p>"You're welcome to wear that look if you want, but otherwise I suggest we touch up before facing the music again," he says, then cringes at his own pun. This place must be affecting him.</p><p>Dirk hands him the tissues as he wipes himself. His hands, dick and crotch are sticky, so he makes quick works of them before tossing the crumpled paper into the bin. From now on, it's no longer his problem.</p><p>He settles for watching John do more or less the same while biting on his cheek, mulling something over. "Hey," the blond says, slowly, "do you wanna bail?"</p><hr/><p>Ok, yes, good. We’re doing this. John’s hand speeds up as he tries to keep his breath steady after that playful affirmative drawl, their mouths tangling with each other once more if briefly… not to mention Dirk’s face ending up buried between his neck and shoulder, he can feel his warm, ragged breath over his clavicle. </p><p>Focus. <em> This I know how to do. At least decently? </em></p><p>John does his best to control himself, with rare moderate success, and simply smothers his heavy breathing against the blond’s neck. It helps that Dirk’s voice is becoming louder and more desperate as John strokes him, a fact the brunette’s almost positive he ignores, and takes wonderfully awed note of. It’s so fucking scrumptious and sexy, to coolly get to watch him lose his footing more and more.</p><p>In his decreasing haze, John is shocked by his brain’s frantic internal chanting of <em> holy fuck, yes please, come over me baby, </em> although that panicked knot in his stomach is easily mixed up with the tense pleasure of hearing and feeling Dirk unravel. His breathy voice calling out John’s name, his sweaty, twitching, thrusting body, his heat and scent, all feel so fucking close and real. </p><p>His gut-wrenchingly delicious broken moan.</p><p>His come, trickling down John’s belly.</p><p><em> Mouthwatering</em>. All of it.</p><p>…</p><p>Perhaps that’s why his mind, unhelpful as ever once again, pushes him to <em> taste it</em>. Why? What if this is… his one opportunity. He might get no other chance. Despite Dirk’s flushed, knit-browed look, and the way those burning Strider eyes seems to be <em> imbibing him </em> right now. Who knows, he might even appreciate… watching the action?</p><p>In the end, he loses his cool and chickens out. Guess he's just glad he got to... make him feel good. He simply takes the tissues Dirk hands him and that John was praying were in whatever poor bastard’s inherited his lousy job’s inventory, and cleans himself up as best as he can. Not so bad as it turns out, despite having to deal with the royal mess on his body. He’s almost done here, when. His heart skips a beat. At a sudden question.</p><p>Did he not catch that right? John can’t say he’s the most adept at dope slang or whatever the hell you call Strideresque vernacular, so he initially searches for an alternative meaning. His eyes pierce the blond’s, but Dirk’s way harder to read when he’s not raving mad or horny, a thought that makes something flutter in his stomach by the way, so he’s not exactly sure of what’s going through his head.</p><p>Eventually, after frantically looking for traces of sarcasm or facetiousness and getting nowhere, he finally arrives at the insane conclusion that <em> Dirk Strider wants to take John home with him. </em></p><p>He immediately wishes his voice hadn’t sounded so strangled when he answers, “shit, hell yeah, please.”</p><hr/><p>John's enthusiastic answer makes Dirk feel only slightly less pathetic and needy, but fuck, he'll take it. Jane will have to forgive him for ditching her party to fuck her brother's brains out. Hopefully she won't find out.</p><p>He nods, then pulls away to pull his clothes back on. One of the first things he does is slip on his shades, finishing his self-repair by fixing his hair by his reflection on the glass.</p><p>Alright, time to plan the escape route. He turns to John. "Did you come in your own car?" He asks, voice calculating and even, as he straightens his shirt and looks around himself for anything looking off.</p><hr/><p>…missing those eyes already? Get it the fuck together, Egbert. It’s just. Weird. Those strangely-shaped shades. They block his gaze, you never know if you’re making proper eye contact and it’s almost impossible to read him. Know what he’s thinking or feeling. </p><p>…nope. Ok! Time to focus on something else. Possibly not being the only one left mostly naked. His bottom clothes can eventually and mysteriously be found at an unreasonably far corner of the office.</p><p>“Yeah, my car is parked outside. I only had like… two drinks, maybe. Or <em> you </em> could drive?” It’s a shy suggestion, because he’s pretty nervous after coming down, but mostly because this situation is <em>entirely surreal</em>, and John is almost half-expecting to end up in some type of <em> it wasn’t Dirk, it was a bodysnatcher all along </em> scenario, or wake up in tub of ice without a kidney, or something along those lines.</p><p>But just in case it isn’t.</p><p>“I should probably go ahead and say bye to Jane. Tell her I’m not feeling too well and I’m gonna head out early.” He already feels guilty about that, but it’s probably wise to keep some measures in place so Jane cannot find out. That’d be a whole new can of worms, wouldn’t it.</p><hr/><p>The metamorphosis of John’s demeanor indicates Dirk wasn’t hallucinating for the past few days. Hormones are really fucking fierce business, as it seems.</p><p>For him, latching onto planning behind his glasses works for him to get his mind back into place. Or sort of, at least, because the blond catches himself also sketching out the itinerary for when they actually get to his place. Anticipation starts to coil in his gut right away and he curses his cognitive slip.</p><p>So he’s driving. It’s been a while since he’s gotten behind a wheel, but it’s no problem, naturally.</p><p>“Fine,” Dirk agrees, peeking at the hallway from the entrance to scout their surroundings. After finding no sign of movement, he turns back to John. “You go ahead and wait by the car, then. I’ll wait a few minutes to come out too.” Which also gives him a few minutes to think about all this and/or regret it.</p><hr/><p>Nod, nod, nodnodnod, just keep nodding until you can get out of this tensely awkward moment and… end up in Dirk’s arms again?</p><p>It’s called the <em>Walk of Shame</em>, John. But with a twist.</p><p>Halfway down the hall, he puts his hands in his pockets all casual-like, nothing happened here, or anywhere, there’s no tautness in his body language, and if you think so you’re imagining things. There’s no uncomfortable sticky feeling underneath his clothes either, and definitely, most assuredly nothing is gonna happen after this! They’re not fucking eloping together, is eloping what he think he is, probably not, anyway they’re obviously not weaseling out to go roll around naked and do a bunch of compromising things for the rest of the night. Nope. No reason to look guilty or flushed over here. This is the longest fucking hallway in the goddamn world, what the hell.</p><p>…he must remember to inhale and exhale every now and then.</p><p>Music becomes louder, there’s a rumble of busy activity, everyone looks a lot more loose and carefree by now, probably the magical combination of dancing and an endless flow of booze. That works for him. Don’t look at anyone right now, don’t run into Jade or Jake (ugh), just find Jane and get out of here.</p><p>With Dirk Strider.</p><p> </p><p>John finds his sister. The conversation is relatively painless, after assuring her he’s totally fine at her concerned look (ouch) and he’s just a little drained and feels like calling it a night. She <em> gives her blessing. </em></p><p>The trip downstairs has never felt slower and more eerie, even more than his latest and last storm-out. Of course it’s close to midnight on a Friday night (10 p.m., or so? Wow, the last couple of hours mysteriously flew by), and everything is pretty much deserted, dark and has a sort of uncanny feel. Or maybe that last one’s got nothing to do with the building.</p><p>He’s finally outside. The cold night air hurts in his lungs from how deep he tries to breathe in. Some suited guy coming back in past him, probably from smoking, makes him jump with unreasonable alarm. God, don’t do this. Stay… cool? Wishful thinking, but at least he needs to try and stay loose. There’s something in the way that Dirk looks at him… when he’s being his old relaxed self. He’s not sure when he picked that up, but…</p><p>Forget it. </p><p>Instead, he pointedly tries not to think, opting for kicking his leg somewhat anxiously while leaning against his very blue car in the parking lot.</p><hr/><p>Alright, from the beginning, now.</p><p>Once upon a time, there was a bitter, heartbroken, stressed out cool dude at a party. He saw his sister’s ex hitting on his little sister and got tipsily annoyed enough to go poke him around. A few minutes later, he did, veritably and vehemently, ‘poke’ the guy, even if not in the initially intended way.</p><p>Then, said guy proceeded to continue to seek him out to push his fucking patience, but the elevated, intellectual, noble man kept enduring his continuous trials, up until the moment the aforementioned fiend sent him a bomb of contagious sparkly powder. That was the last straw, so our hero journeyed all the way over to his lair to face him once and for all.</p><p>And poked him again. Several times. With a hardwood stick.</p><p>Then, he got to meet the villain in some other contexts since then, which made him change a bit of his perspective towards that man. Just a tiny bit. A fraction of an angle.</p><p>Before he knew it, our royal avenger was the one seeking the trickster out.</p><p>Which is a childish way to think of how Dirk is madly attracted to John Egbert. Aside from family and ex-lovers issues, there’s also the aggrieving fact that they have barely their acquaintances in common, and maybe some videogames. Yeah, they have proven to be intoxicatingly compatible physically, but that should be far from enough to get the blond so drunk on him to the point of abdicating all sorts of comfort to get his hands on John as soon as possible.</p><p>Dirk briefly removes his shades and runs his hands down his face. Without anyone around, he can allow his face to relax, so he drops his expression and bites on his lower lip.</p><p>“Shit.”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lots of goodies this update! ;3 Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As previously agreed upon, Dirk waits for around ten minutes before walking out too, making his way back to the party. He’s collected enough to blend in again, as if he’s never left.</p><p>On his search for Jane, though, he stumbles upon Roxy. Oh god fucking damn it.</p><p>“Yo, dude, where’d you go? I was lookin’ for you,'' the girl smiles up at him. He already feels at least twenty five times more guilty from being forced to lie to his sister, but this…is not worth alarming her for.</p><p>“Hey, sorry, I took a bathroom break and decided to chill by somewhere quieter for a while.” Dirk breathes out a dramatic sigh, slowing his words down on purpose. “I’m actually pretty beat, though, so I think I’m gonna head out. You good going home from here?”</p><p>Roxy stares at him for a while, as if she’s got him all figured out. Shit, maybe she does, Lalondes aren’t stupid, no matter their age. Mercifully, though, she doesn’t call him out on it and just nods. “Yeah, I’m cool. Gonna crash at Jade’s again. Take care on your way home, bro, and oh, if ya wanna say g’bye to Jane, she’s over there,” she points to a conga line. Jesus fuck.</p><p>Dirk grimaces and Roxy laughs. “Thanks. You take care, too. Don’t party <em> too </em>hard with those freshly un-suited up businesspeople,” he drones, which gets a new chuckle out of her.</p><p>“Yeah no worries on that front, lol. See ya.”</p><p>Fortunately, the conga line is such a drunken atrocity that he manages to snag Jane out of it without anyone even realizing to tell her he’s leaving.</p><p>“Oh, that’s a shame, but I imagine you must be exhausted,” she says, a light blush on her cheeks. “Don’t worry about your sound system, I’ll get it back to you sometime tomorrow. Also,” she points a finger at him, “I haven’t forgotten my promise to make up for our foiled plans, so I’ll get in touch soon to arrange that.”</p><p>After a few awkward seconds, Jane leans in and hugs him tight. Dirk reciprocates the gesture as she whispers in a deeply affectionate tone: “Be careful on your way home, Strider.”</p><p>He knows it means a lot more than that and that those feelings are probably prompted by the occasion, but they were never ones for mushy confessions of their care for each other. These times are confirmation enough that they’ve got each other’s back.</p><p><em> And some other things, </em> Dirk muses with a pang of guilt. They part and say goodbye, then the blond checks if he’s got his personal items on him and heads toward the elevator.</p><p>The chilly night air greets him like a blessing, if he believed in those. It’s not difficult to find John, since he’s nervously perched on a hideously blue car on the sidewalk.</p><p>“Nice color,” he jabs as he comes close, hands in his pockets. “I too am a man of subtlety.” The blond lifts a hand up and holds out his palm for the car keys.</p><hr/><p>John <em> pointedly fails </em> not to think, in what feels like <em> a new type of problem </em> for sure. It’s like a lot of things are setting alight in him lately, and it’s terrifying to think about objectively. Has he really changed that abruptly?</p><p>…or maybe he’s just starting to understand them.</p><p>Growing up? <em> Bluh</em>.</p><p>Dirk sounds and acts like a grown up. Mostly.</p><p>Dirk doesn’t seem very happy most of the time, either.</p><p>…</p><p>His lanky arms wrap around his thin torso protectively, and it curiously has nothing to do with the cold night breeze. He almost wonders why the hell we cradle ourselves like that, but it easily prompts a flashback of a very recent scene, <em> their lips entwined, their hands cupping each other’s cheek, John’s arms around his strong back, Dirk’s arms around his thin waist. </em> Desperate and wanting, but warm and safe. </p><p>It scares him half to death.</p><p>How this time out in the cold darkness, <em> away from him</em>, rings even more relevant than the time they’ve spent together.</p><p>
  <em> He is so fucked. </em>
</p><p>Not sure he ever stood a chance, though.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After a few minutes of simply resting with his eyes closed, his breathing serenely becoming one with the wind, there are lithe footsteps. Here comes Dirk. Finally. Moving that body and… talking. With that mouth. <em> Holy shit </em> he’s distracting.</p><p>“Who’d want someone they can’t read?” John jabs back immediately, too fast to process the implications. Hopefully the playful grin he sports is a dead giveaway of how little he means that as an actual barb. Maybe he even lingers an extra second or two smiling impishly up at him. Maybe he can’t help himself, okay?</p><p>Maybe he even wants to hold that hand. Not that he will. He drops the keys over that open palm a couple inches away instead, still holding his direct and bright mischievous look. Maybe there’s no fucking rush, and that’s the whole point.<br/><br/></p><p>Something else becomes distracting, however. Way less lithe, way more tramping footsteps.</p><p><em> Here also comes Jake. </em> God fucking dammit.</p><p>Normally, John wouldn’t be surprised to get royally pissed, his face to twist into a grouchy pout, the starts of a hissy fit to start bubbling up beneath his skin, just from wondering where the fuck he’s even going, and what reason could possibly dare taking that oaf even near their vicinity right this exact moment.</p><p>He really does not understand why instead there’s only a deep-seated sadness as he approaches them. And. <em> Fear</em>.</p><p>“Hey, Jake.” His voice is calm and neutral, “We were just leaving.”</p><hr/><p>The blond raises an eyebrow at the brunette, amused, and catches the keys in his hand before John interrupts his intent to shoot a comeback at him.</p><p>Oh fuck no.</p><p>Dirk has to hold back the violent urge to shove his hand on his face when he hears English’s name. This isn’t happening. He refuses to believe this is happening.</p><p>“Why hello again, chaps!” Jake’s unreasonably enthusiastic tone grates his nerves, flared by Dirk’s impatience. “Just as well, I’m heading home myself for the evening, too. Landed me some early training tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Against his most primal instincts, the blond takes a deep breath and turns around with a straight face to address his ex, hands stored in his pockets. “Hey. Yeah, John’s giving me a ride home since I’m on foot.”</p><p>The oldest goof blinks. “You didn’t ride your bike here?”</p><p>Dirk shrugs. “Nah.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Weather forecast.”</p><p>Jake frowns, cocking his head. “I thought the parking lot would be gratis for today.”</p><p>“I wasn’t aware.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>An uncomfortable silence follows. The three men stare at each other, at the ground, at the street, shuffle their feet. Dirk wants to disappear and/or die on the spot, feeling his skin burn with social agony. ‘Get lost, Jake, I want to bang your relative’, he ironizes in his own head.</p><p>“Well, anyhow, I must get going,” English finally says, laughing nervously. “Drive safe, cousin! And uh, you take care too, Dirk,” he turns to the blond, pats his shoulder, then continues down the street towards wherever the fuck he was going initially.</p><p>They wait until he’s out of sight to get moving again, consciously or not. Dirk breathes out a sigh, circles around the car and slips into the driver’s seat. His state of arousal has taken a blow, so he ends up hesitating before the wheel.</p><p>Maybe he should call this off. Inviting John into his house does seem to carry more weight than just casually making out when he runs into him. Then again, he’s invited complete strangers from Flingr to stay the night before and it had never even bordered on personal, so.</p><p>What gives, really?</p><p>Collecting himself, Dirk looks in the rear view mirror. Jesus, the angles are all off and his legs feel cramped. As John clicks on his seat belt, the blond adjusts the settings to accommodate his body. Well, as much as you can in someone else’s fucking <em> blue car</em>, anyway.</p><p>His eyes flicker over to the sound system. He’s not curious.</p><p>And so he smothers his urge to start a conversation and pulls off the curb, into the traffic, towards his apartment.</p><hr/><p>Super. Now they’re talking to goddamn <em> Jake</em>, instead of pulling Dirk close by that purple shirt and making out against his vaguely egg-shaped car. Fine, never mind, <em> he is getting angry after all</em>, sometimes he just wants to punch that goof in the face so bad, no matter how much he knows he's trying to be a good guy deep down. John really fucking hopes being a self-absorbed oblivious douchebag is nothing genetic.</p><p>It’s kinda painful to observe the stilted conversation between his cousin and the man he should be grinding against, it makes his face twist into a cringe that he desperately tries to repress in the name of subtlety. At least they’re not getting chummy? That’s honestly not comforting for some underlying reason.</p><p>Finally, <em> go the fuck away, Jake. </em> “Goodbye, Jake” he manages with what’s possibly the coldest, flattest tone he’s ever his voice being used in, and just gets into the car on the passenger’s side without sparing an instant. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully.</p><p>Dammit. It’s tense again. John breathes out a sigh as he straps on his seat belt and considers doing or saying something stupidly daring,<em> hey Dirk, remember when you splooged on me not 15 minutes ago? Wonk. </em> Instead he shoots the blond a shy look off the corner of his eye, trying to read him once again which, yeah still diffic- oh.</p><p>Saw that.</p><p>The brunette hits the button to turn on his car stereo and the first queued up song starts playing, <em> Two Princes </em> by Spin Doctors. Well. That could have been much worse. And it probably will be. Because what Dirk doesn’t know yet is that Dave made him this mixed CD <em> ironically</em>, because his, and he quotes: <em> hella dumb kinder surprise car needs an aberrant dissonant potpourri of precolombian lullabies, low bass mixes of babies crying and abandoned amusement park themes played backwards.  </em></p><p>The obvious conclusion to be extracted, of course, is that that disk contains an unholy mix of random weird shit Dave thinks is hilarious and/or traumatizing, his own personal music which John guesses is pretty dope, and songs the Strider thought he’d unironically like, which apparently is an assortment of college rock type music. Duh, everyone likes those.</p><p>“You like?” John can barely suppress his toothy smirk, unsure of if the blond knows he’s about to try and mess with him. “You can skip songs if you want.”</p><hr/><p>After stepping on the gas pedal, Dirk gets a total of five seconds before John turns on the stereo. He braces himself and expects the worst.</p><p>Ah, yes, some tasteless college fraternity song, American Pie’s favorite soundtrack of choice. He can clearly see a buff blond with some football team jacket hitting on a poor girl that just wants to get to her class while listening to the notes distorted by the ever overestimated electric guitar.</p><p>There’s something telling him there are worse tunes queued up to that one, which makes him vaguely wonder what’s the precedence of this specific record. It might have to do with the way John’s smiling impishly at him from the passenger seat.</p><p>“Nah, this one’s fine. In fact, why don’t we listen to it exclusively until we get to my place?” He throws back the dare, eyes fixed on the street. It’s a ten minute ride over there, there’s likely not much John can do to rile him up during such a short span of--</p><p>No, okay, nevermind, he’s not even going to <em> think </em>that. This is John Egbert, the brattiest scumbag in the history of human existence and semi-existence, and Dirk has learned to not undermine his ability of being annoying.</p><p>…although he supposes he can work with angry for tonight’s purposes as well.</p><hr/><p>John snorts. He supposes<em> snappy back-and-forth </em> is way better than awkward, anguished tension that makes him feel like they’re driving to their deaths. Phew.</p><p>“Come on, all the way?” Wording. “We’d need like three reruns. Besides, I am also wondering what other gems are hidden in here. Let’s hit next, just for science.” He actually doesn’t remember what the hell’s on there, he usually just tries to focus on traffic and rarely turns on the radio when he’s driving inside the city. Which is almost always.</p><p>One quick poke of a slender finger later, there’s a Spice Girls song torturing them. Brutal. John doesn’t even know the name of it, and turns to the next one after cringing for a solid thirty seconds, which is plenty by his standards.</p><p>The next one is the money shot, though. A horrid version of the Ode of Joy sung by cats that Dave must have firmly believed was an awesomely hilarious choice for a road trip mix and almost made John drive off a curb once with shock. The brunette can’t help but bark out of a laugh at Dirk’s expression.</p><p>“Fucking D- you know what, if you guess the common theme of this CD you win. A favor? Um, I dunno. I’ll owe you one.” Probably should have thought that through first. “Let’s see.”</p><p>Unfortunately, the next tune is one of Dave’s most recognizably cool mixes, so that’s probably a dead giveaway. Shit. Oh well? John smirks to himself.</p><p>“At least this is <em> music</em>. I didn’t want to dig around in the glove box for my Michael Nyman album. What kind of stuff do you listen to?”</p><hr/><p>Though Dirk’s focus is mostly, intentionally, <em> pointedly </em>directed at the traffic, he can’t help being affected by the… <em>ambient</em> music of John’s car. If he had to guess, he’d say the theme for those songs that briefly play before the brunette skips them are ‘shit I’d never listen to unless I wanted a stro--”</p><p>Oh. Of course. That’s because it is. The presence of one of Dave’s best mixed tracks seals his verdict.</p><p>Despite himself, Dirk is already considerably calmer from their run-in with Jake. He drums his fingers on the wheel to the beat. “Anything can be a theme if you are random enough, Egbert. That’s something my bro’s learned like religion,” he glances briefly at John, cocking an eyebrow to proudly claim his victory.</p><p>They stop at a crossing, meaning the blond has to face John’s question.</p><p>“Michael Nyman might indeed not be a good idea when you are behind a wheel with some degree of distilled ethanol in your blood,” he agrees, leaning back momentarily on the seat. Then, a twitch of amusement flashes on his lips. They just skirted around Dave’s ironic takes, so he’s entitled to some pop reference himself, if only to avoid getting into explaining what exactly is ‘math rock’ to this guy he’s going to be balls deep into in around half an hour, tops.</p><p>“My tastes are very singular. You wouldn’t understand.”</p><hr/><p>Dammit, of course he recognized the song immediately. <em> Oh no, this is so terrible</em>, his brain sarcastically provides. Fuck you, brain. Dirk could ask for anything. Do his laundry for a month, or something like that. No, that wouldn’t be too bad. Cooking for him? Wow, he’s bad at this. A squirm didn’t just go down his back considering other options, though.</p><p>…he guesses he’s going home with him for a reason, though. And it ain’t playing chess. He’s allowed to think stuff like that, right? How the hell does this work-</p><p>Dirk starts talking again and thankfully interrupts his panic. It’s easy to get distracted by his moving lips. Very.</p><p>Fuck it, ok? JOHN HOPES IT’S SEXUAL FAVORS. ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY NOW.</p><p>Before he has the chance to wonder who the hell he’s mentally yelling at, he has to consider his interlocutor's puzzling statement. It rings a bell? Feels like a quote, but John can’t really quite place it. </p><p>“Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste?” he fumbles. “Fine, you got me, I have no bloody idea. Since you smirked, I’m gonna assume it’s a reference pertaining to something ironically bad. Did I get it right?” His eyebrows waggle as he chuckles. </p><p>Dirk parks his blue tin can on wheels by the curb next to an apartment building, guess they’re here. As the blond’s still fiddling with the car John slides out, taking a quick look around (nothing to see here folks, just a boring ol’ urban neighborhood, move along), then casually but swiftly going around the car to the driver’s side. So when Dirk comes out he’s facing right at him. Huh. Would you look at that.</p><p>Can you really blame him?</p><p>No overthinking or analyzing seems like a good policy in these cases, John distractedly muses as his hands slide up the sides of Dirk’s chest and their lips come together in an avid but brief kiss that doesn’t go past the lips. As he pulls back, dragging the Strider’s top lip the slightest amount with him, a small pant leaves the brunette’s mouth before it quirks into a smirk.</p><p>“Alright, you won. A deal’s a deal, and I’m a man of my word, so what will it be?”</p><hr/><p>Dirk snorts. Wow, that was a far fucking shot. Maybe it’s for the best, actually. He’s worried John might actually believe that audiovisual instrument of torture is his primary source for material.</p><p>“Not ironically, just unspeakably bad,” he answers, navigating the last blocks to his apartment building as he goes off. “I don’t know if the shit-minded critics that referred to it as a work representative of the ‘sexual emancipation of women’ saw the same thing I did, but I would barely use the term ‘work’ for it.”</p><p><em> ‘I don’t do romance. I fuck. Hard.’ </em> Some things are too painful to forget. Those are two hours of his life he’s never getting back, might as well use those godawful lines ironically.</p><p>When he comes back to reality, Dirk realizes he’s grimacing. With a sigh, he straightens his face and pulls up the car after maneuvering it into a slot.</p><p>The ride has helped dampen his arousal, but John makes quick work of it by attacking his mouth as soon as the car door closes behind him. They’re still out on the street, and the idea of being seen by the homophobic shitheads that live around the area sends a petty kind of satisfaction down his body. Dirk responds in kind, letting go when John pulls back.</p><p>He hopes they wake up the whole fucking building.</p><p>The blond locks the car and hands John the keys with a small smirk. The brunette can’t even hide his excitement at the possibilities for that demand, so Dirk decides to go for the one thing that will make him the most rattled right now. </p><p>“I’m taking it to the bank, Egbert. It’s too valuable an opportunity for me to make a hasty decision about it.” Then, he walks over to the gate, fishing out his own keys and opening it for them to slip inside.</p><p>They take a while to get to the third floor, since the elevator is out of order and they stop every few steps to claw at each other and try to suck the other in through their mouths against walls and handrails. Eventually, they make it to apartment 314 and Dirk fumbles for a couple of seconds with the key on the lock because John is obstructing his access while simultaneously kissing his neck. Goddamn this little rascal.</p><p>That’s good, though. Saves them both the awkwardness of standing around in Dirk’s semi-organized place in a stalemate as to what to do next. Instead, they stumble inside, the blond barely managing to lock his goddamn front door before he’s being yanked further into his own apartment.</p><p>John has no fucking clue about the layout of his home, so Dirk shifts their positions and guides them towards the suite, opening the door to his mostly neat room. There are one or two pieces of clothing strewn over his bed from when he had been getting ready for the party hours earlier, but those are getting thrown aside to his desk chair in less than ten seconds, because he’s got a promise to fulfill.</p><hr/><p>John allows himself barely two seconds of the mildest flavor of disappointment at the blond’s response, before realizing this is precisely the sweetest possible point they can get to.</p><p>The cat and mouse game.</p><p>A mental squirm, envisioning the big bad ferocious cat (fine, it’s a Bengal tiger) playing with the mouse leisurely, in no apparent rush to gobble up his treat like he could do at any chosen moment. </p><p>It’s delicious, it’s excruciating and teasing, and it’s a reminder that things aren’t going anywhere in a hurry. There’s time, there’s prospect, soon, <em> tomorrow</em>, better stop thinking of the word <em> future </em>though, or all this pleasant heat in John’s belly might turn into panic. They can do that in the morning. Just a roguish cat, pawing and chasing a very defenseless but very willing little mouse.</p><p>Except the mouse can often be a sharp asshole. It’s okay though. The cat enjoys the challenge.</p><p> </p><p>They’ve barely made it indoors when they’re immediately all over each other, and John has to hope things don’t end up getting nasty in yet another staircase or does he. No. Yes?</p><p>His disjointed train of thought does arrive somewhere: this is an even more public scenario than their previous public scenarios, which is really <em> saying something</em>. First, it’s a little startling to realize they’ve been making out in the middle of the street, then in a communal area of a building, where anyone can suddenly decide to walk by on their way to the mailboxes. Shit. </p><p>The most shocking part is how little that seems to matter to his psyche. He would muse about how much more it might have mattered to him a few weeks ago, but it’s hard to keep a straight head when it’s all hazy with arousal and attraction for this man. Dirk’s soft pleased hum against his lips destroys the last small remnant of his mental focus.</p><p>They seemingly can’t keep their hands off each other for longer than a few seconds at a time, so the way upstairs is hard. No pun intended. Maybe. But hey, it’s not like John is about to make things easier and stop nibbling on that delicious freckled skin for a single moment, so it is what it is.</p><p>Eventually, they practically fall through a doorway into the apartment. <em> Dirk’s territory </em> , his brain unhelpfully and/or hornily chants. Yeah, he’s not sure if it’s more intimidating or exhilarating, although his hormones seem to scream <em> let’s go with b</em>. Especially when led to the bedroom.</p><p>Dirk busies himself moving some lying around shit for a whole agonizing instant, and John has to try and squash his internal scream of <em> why are you not on me yet? </em> He sits on the edge of the bed, trying to remind himself they’re in no rush, they got all night, they can take it slow, and succeeding for a whole several seconds before getting Dirk too close to his body to care anymore.</p><p>And hooking his pianist fingers into the Strider’s jeans’ belt loops. </p><p>“So. Do you expect <em> screaming at the very least? </em>” he teases with a devilish grin, and hungry ocean-blue eyes shooting a piercing imploring gaze right up.</p><hr/><p>As soon as his stray clothes are properly taken care of, John’s hands are already back on him. Jesus christ, the guy’s gonna milk him dry. How many years of sexual frustration is he making up for here? Are we talking decades or past lives?</p><p>Whatever. As of right now, he isn’t exactly complaining.</p><p><em> Oh shit. </em> He’s totally said that, hasn’t he? Hearing it thrown back at him, he feels no better than Christian. For fuck’s sake.</p><p>No, fuck that whole train of thought with a Freudian metaphorical Transformer dick all the way back to where it came from. Focus, Strider, and holy crap, stop blushing.</p><p>Dirk snorts, looking away for a second. This is a good time to have his shades on. Then, he looks back down at John, leaning his hips forward suggestively. “Sure, but we can always raise the bar.”</p><p>His hands come up to his shirt to start the ordeal of undoing all the buttons once again. “We could make begging the starting point,” Dirk pops open the first one, “maybe go for wearing out your throat until it’s hoarse,” he’s on the last couple, “or how about making you unable to walk straight?”</p><p>The blond’s dress shirt falls to the floor. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then swipes off his shades and swiftly tosses them on the nightstand. “That’s what you came to me for, after all, isn’t it?”</p><hr/><p>Dirk’s delightfully charged stripping is a gift from the gods, to the eyes <em> and ears, </em> and deserves no less than being thoroughly worshipped with drunken eyes through John’s long eyelashes. God. <em> Damn. </em></p><p>Let’s artfully dodge that last question though, and dive into a less compromising and just as tasty topic.</p><p>“Ok,” John mutters, all fake innocence and bright doe eyes, “how much should I beg?” His fingers slide up and trail along Dirk’s now bare and delectably sharp v-line, as he tries to repress a smirk due to being almost positive the answer is<em> not that much.  </em></p><p>John considers the implication that he <em> needs </em> that provocative hip thrust as a non-verbal cue frankly <em> offensive</em>, which only redoubles the strength he uses to pull the Strider closer by his pants, so joke’s on him, he guesses. His face softly buries against that again more-than-evident erection, keeping a deep lascivious blue look fixed on Dirk at all times while he entertains himself by mouthing at his crotch. </p><p>Might as well thank him properly for allowing John those tangerine eyes… and also for already looking a little flushed. His lips tease and play wantonly, up and down and all around over the thick fabric. </p><p>It’s… rather obvious that this is not the first messy activity of the night, and John feels himself blushing fiercely at the thought. God. It’s sort of mortifying, how his body reacts. A <em> scent </em>shouldn’t affect him so radically but it most certainly fucking does, he is 100% legit officially turned on by Dirk’s heady musk and it’s way past denial o’clock at this point. It’s both scary and thrillingly liberating.</p><p>This has to be the hottest, most alluring man in existence. He’d love to keep quipping like the smartass he likes to be, he really would, but his concentration is waning every second his face is touching Strider dick. Through too many layers by the way. Playing dumb seems like a good compromise.</p><p>“What are you gonna do to my throat?” His slender fingers pop the jeans’ button casually.</p><p>“And how are you gonna ruin my walking?” Dirk’s zipper starts slowly coming down by his hand.</p><p>Oh right. He remembers his pledge, prompting a toothy smirk up.</p><p>“Please?”</p><hr/><p>Dirk Strider isn’t a man easily fazed by people’s actions, despite what recent events might show. The world’s wide and complex enough to encompass an endless variety of possibilities and points of view, so his general reaction to unexpected outcomes is ‘alright, fair,’ and maybe a shrug.</p><p>That’s why he has no fucking clue why John’s seemingly unhinged lust within sexual contexts takes him aback. Dirk isn’t sure whether John’s unveiled desire stems from inexperience or some piss-poor auto-perception of self-worth, but he almost feels sorry for him.</p><p>Or <em> would </em>almost feel, if it didn’t make the blond himself turned on out of his mind. He swallows slowly as he watches the brunette mouth the bulge in his pants like he can’t fucking help himself, lip caught between his teeth. Fuck.</p><p>He lets out a silent breath when John starts working his jeans open, collecting himself again. Dirk realizes John’s still far too dressed for the occasion and starts working open his shirt. “What are you pleading for, John? You’ll have to be more specific.”</p><p>Again, he undoes the first one. “Do you mean ‘please touch me’?”</p><p>Another one. “Do you mean ‘please let me touch you’?”</p><p>Third one. He’s biding his time. “‘Please fuck me’?”</p><p>“‘Please use my face as a personal fuckhole’? ‘Please cum all over my face, down my throat, inside me’? ‘Please spread me open and wreck my ass until it’s gaping open’?”</p><p>Dirk pops open the last one and slowly slips John’s shirt off his shoulders, looking up at him again with pupils blown wide. “And in what order?”</p><hr/><p>Dirk’s fingers, delectably teasing, slowly undoing his shirt buttons, might have been enough to make him lose his mind. But his voice… that deep, honeyed drawl, and the things it’s being used to articulate by that mouth… Every alternative posited makes John emit a tiny needy gasp, and sends a jolt of pleasure right to his aching dick.</p><p>Here he is again, feeling overstimulated without even as much as a measly graze of his body. The power held over his head is both titillating and terrifying.</p><p>As the blond stops talking, John feels like he’s finally almost able to breath again. He at last manages to free the Strider’s erection from his clothes, letting it bob in the air for just an instant, entranced, before placing a tentative suckle right over the frenulum, and effectively preventing himself from just yelling <em> YES, JUST ALL OF IT, PLEASE. </em></p><p>His hands slide up behind the thighs in front of him and over both sides of that tight as fuck ass, squeezing with restrain, pretending he doesn’t need to hold on for dear life. Like he’s not dying to answer all those fucking ruthless questions.</p><p>“…yes.” He can’t help himself and he’s ok with that.</p><p>Too vague, though. Looking up at Dirk with blue needy puppy eyes, John feels his own blush flare up to an insane degree.</p><p>“Please let me taste you?”</p><p>John laps shyly over his cock slit.</p><p>“Please fill me up?”</p><p>He mouths all up the length, sucking softly.</p><p>There’s no complaints or obstacles, the blond just letting him play at will, watchful above him. It’s almost unbearably intimate.</p><p>Still holding his shaft between slim fingers, John’s eyes dart left and right thoughtfully, mulling something over for an instant before looking back up.</p><p>For the second time tonight, he asks, “what do <em> you </em>want, Dirk?” With a full-body shudder, he exhales a warm, moist, needy huff right against the blond’s flesh. “I wanna know.”</p><p>The brunette is starting to get a bit shaky with the nearly-toxic cocktail of arousal, vulnerability and touch exposure. Or maybe it’s the cold. Maybe he needs more body heat, despite the fact that his skin feels like it’s under the desert sun, indoors, at midnight.</p><p>“<em>Please, for the love of fuck, touch me</em>, sounds like a viable start.” His eyes are closed and he’s trying desperately to control his breathing, and still, he reiterates. “Please.”</p><p>With no warning whatsoever, he rashly pulls Dirk by the waist on top of him, his abs clenching slightly when he feels the blond’s hard rod sliding against his stomach. John slowly licks a strip up his neck, behind his earlobe, to reach his ear with a whisper. “Pretty fucking please.”</p><hr/><p>The thing about John, Dirk realizes, is that he always either underwhelms or surpasses his expectations completely, no in-between. That leaves him reeling to make recalculations as to what to do next, such as now. He knew the brunette was eager, but didn’t expect him to be so upfront and direct in his pleas, still half expecting John to go back to framing Dirk as a predator and himself as the victim.</p><p>But damn is this different.</p><p>Amidst the needy voicings of John’s desire, the question comes as more or less of a surprise. He doesn’t need to answer, though, because, after teasing his boner with surgical precision, John’s pulling him forward and sending a shudder down his spine and up his cock by cursing in his ear. Fucking hell.</p><p>What he wants, Dirk decides suddenly, is to drill this guy into his bed until his muscles can’t take it anymore. And that takes a while; he knows from experience.</p><p>That settles it, then. Dirk grabs a fistful of John’s hair and yanks his head back to claim his mouth again, feverishly, decisively. If the man wants whatever he has to offer, then he’ll let muscle memory guide them.</p><p>First of all, there are <em> still </em>too fucking many clothes in the way. The blond clicks his tongue in impatience, then pulls back to shuck off his pants and underwear, plucking off his shoes in the process as well. Then, he undoes the button and fly on John’s pants and removes them in record time, toppling the man over on the bed so he can pull them all the way off. Again, fucking shoes get in the way, but soon enough John’s pleasantly devoid of his prison of fabric, pale skin contrasting with dark pubes and a flushed cock.</p><p>Dirk takes a second to remember the sight, then climbs back onto the bed, grabbing John’s legs by the back of his knees and fitting his own thighs under them to encourage the brunette to hike up on the mattress. When he’s fully kneeling on the sheets, towering over John, the blond dives down to kiss him again.</p><p>Though they’re both already pretty riled up, Dirk did vow diligence, so he moves his lips sensually, making sure to set on fire every nerve on John’s mouth and body with it. He sucks on his bottom lip slowly before trailing down to kiss under the younger’s jaw.</p><p>While he lavishes attention on John’s neck with kisses, suckles and drawn-out nibbles, his clawed hands torturously rake down the man’s body to reach around and grab each side of his ass firmly. It just so happens that his mouth is close to John’s ear when he pulls their bodies flush against each other by squeezing his ass and lets out a breathy groan right over a patch of skin damp with saliva.</p><p>Then he does it again, making sure there is no physically possible space left between their sticky bodies as he ruts against John.</p><hr/><p>As a response, John gets the blond to attack his mouth with a fierce kiss, strong fingers tangled into his dark hair, and that seems just as good a response as any he could get. Body language that screams <em> I want you</em>.</p><p>First Dirk’s clothes come off and the brunette finds himself once more gazing at his blemished body, so disfigured yet so perfect, prompting a turmoiling brew of emotions that’s already, unfortunately or not, characteristic of their relationship. Then he’s pushed back onto the mattress so the Strider can take care of him, a thought that makes his insides squirm like there’s no tomorrow, and sure enough he’s joining the blond in nudity in the blink of an eye.</p><p>The deliberate look Dirk devotes to his naked body is intense, it makes him wonder if the man can literally see his body light up like a heat lamp under such attention, especially when the blond’s gaze lingers over his out-of-control erection.</p><p>One more second and John might have gone into spontaneous combustion, thankfully Dirk puts an end to that by hitching up his legs so he’ll move back up towards the pillows (not that John really needs an excuse to hook up his bare legs over those warm thighs) and dip down to devour his mouth again. </p><p>…devour might be the wrong term though. The tenderness the blond indulges him with is almost overwhelming, softly interlocking their lips and tongues, kissing and licking down his chin, underjaw, stopping to both pamper and torture his neck, using his mouth a weapon with which to forcibly extract delighted sighs and moans from the brunette. Meanwhile Dirk’s hands, skilled and lithe as ever, travel all over his responsive body, caressing and scraping, making him gasp at every nook and cranny they graze, to eventually land firmly over his buttcheeks. </p><p>When the Strider uses that vantage point as leverage to lift him up and grind against him, with the heavenly bonus of unashamedly growling in pleasure right beneath his ear, John thinks he might pass out, have a stroke, drop dead. Whatever it is, it’d be fucking worth it. With the next rut of their bodies John lets out his own unrepentantly loud moan, abandoning all pretense of trying to restrain himself. His arms brace themselves to the older man’s back, his legs curl up around Dirk's waist.</p><p>“Dirk, ahh~”</p><p>One of his slender hands tangles into blond hair, the other one coming down to knead hungrily into the blond’s ass. John ruts back against his body, needy and shameless, wanting to do everything and anything to turn the man on, and at the same time not knowing what to do besides surrender himself to the moment.</p><p>John opts to do just that and let his body do whatever comes naturally, his mouth finds the crook of the blond’s neck, kissing and sucking some marks on it passionately, on his way up to lick and bite his earlobe. One more time, every inch of their bodies meets each other’s and, when he can feel their rock-hard cocks sliding tight together, John can’t help but whine, and then whisper into his ear.</p><p>“God, Dirk, that feels <em> so fucking good</em>.”</p><hr/><p>Dirk moves his body against John’s a few more times as he tries to keep his sounds to some low grunts, breath heavier than it was minutes ago. He agrees; the friction does feel fucking great, but “I know something even better.”</p><p>He pulls back to reach over to the night stand and open the drawer. From there, he retrieves a bottle of lube (thank fuck) and a condom. John did say he wanted to be filled up, but they’re both dirty as fuck and they finally get to have some adequate props, he’s not about to forgo the handiness of a queer's best friends.</p><p>Speaking of which, if the guy has such a preference for getting his ass railed, he should really invest in--</p><p>Yeah, okay, fair, but a) why would Dirk care and b)<em> why the fuck are you thinking about this now???  </em>Shoving aside those thoughts, he sets the two down along with a tissue beside them on the bed.</p><p>It takes a bit of coaxing to get the brunette to disentangle from him, but Dirk manages to sit back between John's legs. He runs a hand down his body, feeling the sharp curves and dips encased by skin under his palm. His cool, intense amber gaze follows its path, appreciating the way John twitches and squirms beneath him.</p><p>Then, Dirk looks up and locks eyes with John as he leans down to lick a strip across one of his nipples, hands gliding lower to part his legs and grip his cock. He gives it a few firm strokes, slow and deliberate, as his mouth closes around one of the flushed buds and his tongue traces the outline of the aureola.</p><p>Once again, he straightens himself up and fetches the lubricant. <em> A bottom's best friend, </em> he muses with some amount of bitterness. Labels are only useful for offenses and statistics, he has no fondness for them.</p><p>Dirk squirts a bit of the thick fluid on his hand and on John's dick, watching it trickle down the pulsating member to his balls. The picture of obscenity.</p><p>His left hand closes around the man's shaft again, stroking it with much more fluidity as his right, slick with lube, trails south to smear some of the substance over John's entrance. Dirk sits back on his heels, alternating his gaze between the brunette's face and behind.</p><p>Something occurs to him in the haze of arousal. "How much can you see without glasses?"</p><hr/><p>It's so deceptively simple, so blissful to just lie there looking up at Dirk’s ministrations, breathing heavily and having weird knots in his stomach every time he thinks too hard of all the attentions being lavished upon him.</p><p>While the blond’s busy, John reaches over for that condom and catches it in between his overbite and regular bite. It may be stupid cute, but at least it’s cute. But still. He’s a little peeved at it. He understands why, he really does, <em> he’s not a fucking total idiot </em> most of the time. And yet. Oof. It just feels <em> so fucking amazing </em> to have Dirk… directly… it’s hard to go down without a bit of a fight, okay?</p><p>He ejects the offending prophylactic from his mouth for a second, unable to suppress a little moody pout. “Don't you want to... breed me?” He flashes a truly devious grin up at the blond, while at the same time he makes himself squirm through his own wording. <em> Quite obscenely gay</em>, something in the back of his mind provides, and John is pleased to only feel a devilish sense of indecent empowerment he never wants to get rid of. Analogous to the sensation of consciously getting drilled by Dirk for the first time and feeling him orgasm hard, deep inside of him, as if nothing can ever remotely compare to the real thing, fucking obviously. And we’ve come full-circle.</p><p>With a resigned sigh, he retrieves the condom on his chest and plays with it between his thumb and index finger.</p><p>A playful mouth on his nip seals his mood back into utter delight. Who cares, it doesn’t matter, Dirk can do anything and everything to him, he muses, as his train of thought morphs into anguished little moans at the feel of that lapping tongue. God, he could make him come just from that. Ok, yeah, this is perfectly fine. Dirk’s little plaything.</p><p>The blond withdrawing his touch is both a relief that lets him breathe, think and exist again, and the most desperately mortifying torture. Because those two things make sense together.</p><p>“It’s a little blurry, but not so bad. It’s pretty bad from afar, though.” John considers removing his glasses and setting them down on the nightstand next to Dirk’s shades, but soon discards that idea in the name of adventure.</p><p>That’s gonna be his last coherent thought for a while though, because after those fucking <em> incendiary </em>strokes, kisses and licks on his body get every nerve on him into a delicious state of sexual alarm, what comes next is enough for his brain to short-circuit for good. The feeling of lube dripping down his member and beyond with a tingle, plus the fixed fiery gaze observing with devotion, are helpfully tuning out every thought and letting him just submerge into the sensations. By the time he feels slick fingers at his hole, stroking and starting to prod, his only reaction is closing his eyes accompanied by a deep sigh. Gentle limber fingers, carefully penetrating deeper and deeper. Heavenly.</p><p>The idea of leaning up to try and get some tongue-on-tongue action going is beyond tempting, but it’s quickly rejected in favor of watching Dirk’s expression closely, shifting from John’s face to his currently messier areas, gaze burning and enthralled. The brunette wonders if he’s aware of how beautifully expressive his facade is right now. </p><p>If he’s not gonna be able to hold him from down there, John’s gonna hook up his legs around the blond’s shoulders, one of his ankles coming behind the man’s neck, cradling.</p><p>“God I want you inside of me.”</p><hr/><p>Even while focusing on getting John relaxed and prepared to take him, it’s hard to miss the tell-tale crinkle of the condom package being disrupted, so the blond looks up and almost smiles at how much John looks like a kid who just found some weird candy in his parents’ bedroom.</p><p>Then, Dirk’s whole face twists into a grimace at John’s sentence.</p><p>He cringes so hard that his teeth audibly grind against each other. <em> Not him, too</em>. “Do you take me for a beast, Egbert? I regret to inform you I don’t have that kind of fetish.”</p><p>Although the thought of fucking John through his orgasm and releasing into him to watch the cum ooze out of his twitching hole afterwards is--</p><p>Another time. Maybe. If there is another time. Dirk wouldn’t mind going for another time.</p><p>So John is not so myopic as Dirk thought. Just blind, apparently. He thinks he’s never seen the guy without glasses and thinks about correcting that, but his hands are a tad busy at the moment, one hand massaging the underside of the man’s cock and two fingers stretching him open. Which reminds him, in goes another one.</p><p>John’s voiced desire sends a rush of blood towards his dick, standing tall and hard and needy, making Dirk bite his lip in self-restraint. He has half a mind to make the brunette come once before pounding into him, but maybe three times is a bit of a stretch?</p><p>Let’s check it out.</p><p>“How much?” Dirk drawls, shoving three curled fingers as deep as he can go inside John, trying again until he’s hitting the precise spot that makes the man jolt as if he’s been electrocuted. He’s not one for pillow talk, but something about the raw <em> lust </em>in Egbert’s voice makes him want to hear every word John has in stock to say about him. “Tell me how badly you want it, John.”</p><hr/><p>John’s still blinking a bit extra fast at the blond’s reaction to his protesting, like they didn’t do that already, <em> twice</em>, one of them fairly sober. Does being high on lust and anger count? He doesn’t really want to think deeply about that time anyway. It’s painful and confusing.</p><p>Having his dick massaged while being rammed with multiple fingers, stretching and stimulating him, is pretty straightforward. John simply takes that in, gasping and moaning unabashedly around their scissoring. A particularly well-aimed stab makes his whole body quake accompanied by a high-pitched squeal, his legs twitching violently around the blond’s neck. He can practically taste that satisfied Strider smirk.</p><p>“Hng~” Not an answer, breathe and try again. “I-I want it. Bad.” Fuck, his voice is already going to hell.</p><p>“Bad enough… to ask for a creampie?” He tries, smirking in between whimpers, hands fisted into the sheets, <em> Dirk's bedsheets</em>, cursing that Strider dexterity to zero in on that <em> exact right spot </em> deep inside of him. Please don’t stop.</p><p>When Dirk eases up for an instant, or gets distracted long enough to neglect hammering into him for a goddamn second, John’s hand leaps up to his own face to remove his glasses, after panting and heaving trying to regain composure for a few moments, realizing the blond’s hands are <em> pretty fucking occupied </em> and they won’t just fly off his face on their own. He leaves them by the bedside, and blinks those baby blues.</p><p>He still can see Dirk pretty well in the dim light. Everything else around them is blurry, which he supposes works just fine for him. Who cares about what surrounds them, really. All… all he needs…</p><p>His chest rises and falls as the blond speeds up again, combined with the fiery gaze piercing into his now fully unobstructed eyes, it takes a tight bite to his own wrist to stifle a wail. His legs try to pull the man’s body closer of their own accord, desperately craving to feel much more than a few fingers and a palm. Yeah, he’ll prop himself up on a elbow to fucking <em> beg </em>if that’s what it takes.</p><p>“Shit.” His frantic, ragged breath only lets words out in bursts, rushed, needy as all hell. “Dirk. C’mere. Please. Fuck me. <em> Anywayyouwant</em>, but, please-” his voice box gives out again, so he reaches up to touch those lips he misses so fucking much, grazing them with his thumbprint until he feels the blond bite down.</p><hr/><p>Not the best kind of answer, Dirk judges, but the way John’s voice falters makes up for it. The blond smirks ever so slightly, amusement playing in the fiery hues of his eyes. “Not gonna happen.”</p><p>No matter what Dirk throws at him, though, it looks like the brunette’s quite enjoying himself.</p><p>Then, in one fumbling, shaky movement, John slips off his glasses and gets rid of them for the moment and the blond almost freezes at the intensity of his gaze. How the fuck can someone’s eyes even be that…<em> blue?  </em>Dirk almost recoils from the assault, but his body apparently settles for a hard and long gulp.</p><p>Well, at least they’re even now. In more than one way, Strider notices, looking down to see their matching erections. He thrusts a few more times, twisting his fingers to gauge how loose the muscles are before he deems it satisfactory and pulls out and back.</p><p>Just in time, in fact, because John’s back at it again, pleading in a deliciously whiny voice that seemingly vibrates in the same frequency as his dick. A finger traces his lips and Dirk automatically cranes his head to bite it softly, looking up to meet John’s eyes again.</p><p>And holy shit.</p><p>Dirk Strider doesn’t believe in perfection, but for a second tonight he entertains the thought as he looks down at this sexy brat sprawled open under him, inviting him in and begging him to fuck him with an undeterred, unapologetically lustful look. It’s certainly a sight to behold, and his favorite look on the man so far.</p><p>Yeah, he can’t wait anymore, either. He’s always said patience is overestimated, anyway.</p><p>The blond dips down to wrench a fierce kiss from the younger man, pinning him to the mattress with the angle of his body. His hand blindly seeks out the goddamn condom and, despite the standard recommendation, rips it open with his teeth (he’s <em> not </em>a beast, shut up) and rolls it onto himself.</p><p>By the time he’s grabbing John’s thighs to pull him closer onto his lap, his breathing is out of sync with his heartbeats. At this point, he doubts John gives a shit about gentleness, but Dirk still applies more lube to the area before aligning himself and pushing inside gradually, bending John’s legs forward as he goes so he can tower over him on the bed.</p><p>The blond hangs his head for a second, closing his eyes against the searing tightness of John’s hole. It squeezes him all around in pulsating twitches, and every time he slides a little more, the friction makes his skin burn.</p><p>It’s chemistry and biology, he tells himself, but god fucking <em> damn </em>are carbon chains powerful.</p><p>“Fuck, John,” Dirk pants, some stray locks of hair falling over his forehead and lidded eyes. He rocks his hips in shallow thrusts until he’s fully seated, waiting for the man to relax around him to start picking up his pace.</p><hr/><p>He…- </p><p>Th-</p><p>It feels good.</p><p> </p><p>Shit, that’s incredibly, stupidly underwhelming as a description, but-</p><p>Dirk’s kiss is intoxicating. His body grinding down sensually set his skin alight. His eyes. Those eyes.</p><p>His-</p><p>Their-</p><p> </p><p>All John can see is the desire loaded in the blond’s gaze, brow, lips as he begins to penetrate him, gentle and intense, soft and firm, careful and delirious. It’s overwhelmingly beautiful when Dirk’s expression twists into pleasure. His name, falling out of his mouth. It makes him feel drunk, dizzy, about to burst. His brain does whatever the mental parallel of <em> clenching </em>is and screams, implores, for this never to have to stop. Ever. The neediest and most essential prayer thrown out into the universe.</p><p>It burns deliciously, that throbbing steel shaft, impaling him, turning him on to an insane degree, hurting him, yes, how can something hurt so good? It stretches him open wide and it’s slick and oh so fucking tight and he feels as full as he knows he’s ever gonna be.</p><p>
  <em> Dirk… oh, god… </em>
</p><p>It never manages to leave his inner monologue, his mouth instead falling open to whimper softly with every rock of his hips, his hands raking up the blonds neck, his thumbs stroking down his jawline, eyes unfocused and completely mesmerized by the man above him that’s starting to fuck him into oblivion.</p><p>John’s voice comes out surprisingly low and gruff.</p><p>“More.”</p><hr/><p>Once Dirk’s more or less recovered his cool, enough to open back his eyes, he starts to move. John’s hands can’t seem to sit still in one place for too long, which is a bit disconcerting, but not particularly bad.</p><p>
  <em> ‘More’, huh? </em>
</p><p>The blond ignites a slow, sizzling rhythm for starters, pinning the brunette with his gaze and watching closely how John’s body shifts with each thrust. By this point, both men are so hot and turned on that the smallest stimuli set their nerves ablaze. Such is true for Dirk, at least, because he has trouble schooling his breathing back into a steady flux even while taking it slow.</p><p>For a while, he just sits back on his heels, pushing into John with a lazy pace, but soon his own urges demand… well, ‘more’, so Dirk hooks John’s knees over his shoulders and leans in, spreading him wide open to hit a good angle.</p><p>“Shit--” Despite his best efforts, some very audible grunts escape his lips as he begins to use more force in his hips, the grip on the head of his cock sending bolts of pleasure throughout his whole body.</p><hr/><p>
  <em> If you want romantic eye contact during sex, find someone to fuck who actually likes you. </em>
</p><p>…</p><p>Those fire eyes feel like they’re literally <em> fucking his</em>.</p><p>John rattles around with mouth agape, his hypnotized gaze fixed on Dirk, red-faced and sweaty, hair disheveled, looking like the perfect fucktoy and loving it. Moaning unrestrained, with every powerful, deep thrust in between his spread-wide legs whipping him into a frenzy, making his whole body burn.</p><p>And Dirk just keeps speeding up, sliding in deeper, with every bit of his rapt attention focused on him. When the most obscene collection of noises start falling from the blond’s lips, John is close to exploding. This time there’s no keeping the words from escaping.</p><p>“Dirk… my god,” he gasps, his hands take leverage around the Strider’s neck, using it to push back up against his hips, “please please don’t stop.”</p><p>He resolves to be good, simply lie back and let the noises of appreciation come out, just feel <em> everything </em>that’s being offered to his body.</p><p>But Dirk is drilling him hard, he can hear their hips slapping, he’s <em> moaning </em> for god’s holy fucking sake, and John has the most unescapable need to do anything and everything he can to please that man, to drive him out of his tightly-wound mind. His heart won’t just let him <em> lie back. </em></p><p>John Egbert’s just not wired that way. His nails dig into the back of the blond’s neck as he asks:</p><p>“Di-AH, fuck... Dirk, I wanna ride you. Please let me ride you.”</p><hr/><p>Stopping wasn't on the list of things Dirk intended to do in the near future, but he does entertain the brunette's... request? Plea? Demand? Why the fuck is he even asking, they're <em> both </em>having sex here. This time, unequivocally consensually, even.</p><p>The idea of John straining and fumbling to stab himself on his dick does sound appealing, though, so the blond lets go of the man's legs and locks onto his hips before flipping them around on the bed. Then John is straddling his hips; his dick, thick with arousal, bobbing on Dirk's lower abdomen. The guy looks shaky and blissed out, it's a surprise he can even keep his spine straight.</p><p>It's somewhat unnerving to be pinned down like this, but Dirk still keeps his grip, even if a little loose, on John's spread thighs, ready to invert them again to the slightest provocation. He doesn't move at first, observing the younger's movements down his nose as his own chest rises and falls out of rhythm over the mattress, lips parted to accommodate the quick puffs of air. It's a good chance to catch his breath for a bit and stop sounding like an excited dog.</p><hr/><p>There’s something unequivocally intimate about his body being braced in those strong arms, rolled around in bed, and being released flush onto Dirk’s warm stomach. It makes John squirm and shudder for more relevant reasons than being pierced on a Very Large Dick™️. Somehow.</p><p>And speaking of which. There’s gonna be a period of adjustment with this new position, because <em> holy fuck, is that DEEP</em>. John can kind of… feel it in his belly? Which is both obscenely hot and fucking weird.</p><p>“F-fuck…”</p><p>His gaze fixes on the hands gently holding onto his thighs instead. Catch your breath, don’t look back at those smoldering ember eyes, yet. Don’t… focus on how his fingers squeeze John's bare flesh where they’re resting.</p><p>Must he be so fucking steamy <em> at all times</em>?</p><p>John carefully rolls his hips around him, keeping that tight circular rhythm for a bit, trying to adapt. He could always take a breather to… slide his hands up the blond’s silky chest, leaning down to sloppily lick into his mouth. Yes, he could. And does. And sighs into his mouth.</p><p>Rocking his hips tentatively back against deep-seated Dirk draws out a sharp pained whimper out of him. <em> Goddamn </em>he’s big. He can feel it more and better than ever. The brunette leans forward, trying to ease the pressure and simply slide lazily back and forth closer to the tip, panting blissfully with one arm braced on the blond’s stomach and his other hand clamped over the blond’s hand on his thigh.</p><p>Finally holding his gaze, scanning for reactions.</p><hr/><p>The reprieve from a fast-paced binge grants Dirk some time to recover and school himself into more of a calm performance, which goes well with the tentative moves of John’s hips on his cock. </p><p>Even if John is taking what he wants from him, it’s undeniably amusing to see him sort of at a loss as to what to do with it. His shifty rocking above him is pleasant, but far from enough for completion. Dirk closes his eyes for a moment, appreciating the way John’s muscles hug his sensitive member and twitch around him.</p><p>He only opens them again when there are lips on his. John looks pained and hesitant, the perfect target for some teasing.</p><p>Dirk smirks down at him. “What’s wrong? The seat too hard for you?” Then, the blond thrusts up, just a small jolt, challenging. His hands slide up to hold the brunette’s hips, an implicit threat of impatience.</p><hr/><p>“The seat’s <em> impaling me</em>,” John pants, “and I suspect you know that.” He would be madder at the blond’s cocky taunts if that smirk on his smug lips wasn’t so goddamn attractive. And that shallow thrust that made him whimper didn’t send a bolt of <em> way more than ache </em> up his body. He’s back at that spot where he could probably smother him with a pillow, if only for a little bit. Not much though. He needs him.</p><p>“Are we getting impatient?” He quips with his eyebrow drawn up, and without giving him space to counter, or himself time enough to think better of it, he sinks down around his fully-erect, hard as a rock, understatedly defined as <em> fucking big </em> cock. All the air empties out of his lungs at the intensity, tears pricking up in the corner of his wide-open eyes. Seated to the hilt on that dick, he feels like trying to engulf an i-beam.</p><p>He rests there for a second, trying to maybe take in a breath or two (difficult), raking his nails up Dirk’s forearms and wondering if because he’s<em> so fucking full</em>, he’s imagining feeling his girth pushing right at his <em> stomach</em>.</p><p>John stares down the blond as he resolutely lifts his hips off him and free drops back down.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, ah!!”</p><p><em> Shit</em>. He might ease off on the next, but he’s not about to <em> fucking stop</em>. John grants the Strider a smoldering blue glance and a tight bite of his own lip as he bounces on his cock with more and more force. He sobs softly throughout the small jolts of pain that slowly subside, while the pleasure burns hotter and hotter in his belly and paints his skin with a sweaty flush. Oh god. So full, so hard. More, faster, <em> deeper</em>.</p><p>“Ah-ah, fuck, god,<em> Dirk</em>~” he rocks his hips against him frenzied and unrestrained, feeling so fucking amazing his vision blurs and he latches at those muscular arms for balance. The look in Dirk’s tangerine eyes is pure poetry.</p><p>Finally remembering his original plot, and regaining the perfect excuse for what his body is already <em> screaming </em>for him to do, John rides that steel shaft hard and fast like a good boy, throwing his head back and moaning like a pornstar.</p><hr/><p>The more Dirk gets to know John, the more he has to revise his first impression of the guy. There’s some undeniable wit in him, even if used in the most frivolous of ways, but if compared to the absolute useless bastard the blond had judged him to be, it’s already one hell of an improvement.</p><p>Dirk can indulge in frivolity sometimes.</p><p>“Shit,” he hisses in when John bounces surgically on him, shutting his eyes. His fingers tighten on his hips, chasing the movement, feeling the muscles tense under his palms.</p><p>For a while, the Strider just lies back, head lax on the pillow, and pants through the sensations in his body. John’s loud moans burn hot on his ears, setting his skin on fire. His pace is slightly uncoordinated, but the way he’s moving on his cock is delicious. <em> Fuck yes. </em></p><p>Every few bobs, Dirk’s throat vibrates with some unrestrained hums and groans, growing more frequent by each minute. When he realizes what that means, he opens his eyes again and looks down at the brunette.</p><p>Alright, John’s had his fun. Dirk grips the man’s hips harder and bends his own legs, digging his feet into the mattress for leverage.</p><p>Then, he slams up hard when John plunges down and moans through gritted teeth. It’s not the end, though, because he starts timing his hammering with the other man’s, finding a dizzying pace for the both of them.</p><p>With every stab of his dick, he can feel his head punch the walls of John’s insides and see the man’s abdomen bulge out in tune with his thrusts. The idea that he’s almost literally rearranging his guts by fucking him like this makes Dirk’s head feverish with arousal. He can’t tear his magmatic eyes away from it.</p><p>“Fuck, John--” He probably means to say something else, but catches himself in time before saying anything compromising and just focuses on chasing his pleasure, eyebrows drawn together.</p><hr/><p>John “Cock Cowboy” Egbert, as he should be referred to in every instance from now on, might have guessed Dirk closing his eyes during sex with him would have bothered him. Or even… hurt. And yet.</p><p>Dirk throws his head back on the pillow, his eyelids shut softly and his brow lightly furrowed, his broad hands clinging to John’s hips, huffing and gasping light and quiet like the purest picture of bliss, infuriatingly gorgeous.</p><p>Fucking <em> forgiven</em>.</p><p>John props himself up weakly, as best as he can to sit flush against his abdomen, and following suit he closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the feelings. His palms, flat atop the blond’s tight warm stomach. Dirk’s sweet pleased noises. Their hips rocking and rolling together greedily. Off to heaven, bye.</p><p>His attention is brought back progressively as Dirk’s voice gets less<em> light and quiet </em> and more desperate and horny, not that the horniness was ever in doubt, because Dirk has been looking ready to <em> devour him </em> for a while and John is fucking living for it. He wants to be the cause of his unbridled lust forever.</p><p>As John comes back to the mortal realms from his hot as fuck reverie, he finds himself stabbed both by that hungry fire gaze and its owner's throbbing dick to boot. They extract both a lovely anguished squeal from the brunette, and a frowning look of disbelief down. <em> You are such a fucking jerk that was rough and it feels unreasonably good don’t stop punching your rod into me. </em></p><p>He’s getting drilled hard every time he comes down, with flawless Strider rhythm, so deep and wet and so fucking intense and it feels so-- </p><p>So g-- …!</p><p>OKAY he can see his belly bulging out now. That is a thing that is actually happening and he didn’t just imagine, or Dirk made up an eternity ago to torture him. This is fucking real.</p><p>His brain is yelling at him to reject it, to find it weird, creepy, unnatural. And fails miserably.</p><p>It’s <em> smoking fucking hot </em> and his eyes stay glued to it for a good long time, watching his abdomen bulk out lewdly, licking his lips and whimpering more desperately with each thrust. Until his legs start trembling, and all self-restraint and leftover coherence goes out the third-floor window.</p><p>“Dirk, fuck, god please don’t stop plugging me, it feels so fucking good, ahn~” his hips rock feverishly as he starts to twitch around that steel cock. It’s the perfect hazily steamy moment to hear his name fall out of Dirk’s lips, obscene and delicious.</p><p>Even moaning unfocused and quivering, John can’t help himself. “You like it? You like me riding your dick?” He manages to smirk down at him for a second before Dirk pistons ball-deep into him, fast and rough, in seeming lustful retaliation. Or because he’s had enough of this mellow shit and is about to fuck the brunette into a whining, shaking mess. Either way, John emits a delighted pleasure sob as his knees buckle and his arms threaten to give out. Ok, yeah, good, either one works for him.</p><hr/><p>Everything's blissfully harmonic until John pipes up again with the hint of a taunt amidst his pleas and moans. Dirk's half-lidded gaze snaps up at him, colored with a hue between annoyance and amusement.</p><p>The blond huffs and lets go of John's hips to sit up and brace himself on the bed with an arm. His other hand snakes in between them to teasingly stroke the man's dick as he slows down his pace to a torturous tempo. His thrusts are shallower, too, just enough to tease at John's sweet spot with his cock.</p><p>"Riding me? I'm doing most of the job here, Egbert," he drawls, voice low and husky just an inch away from the younger's face. "You're shaking like a leaf, can barely keep yourself up."</p><p>Then, after a few seconds of panting hotly over his mouth, Dirk tips forward and whispers into John's ear: "But yeah, I like when you ride me like a whore chasing her money for the fifth time in the same night. Like you need this as much as you need oxygen and love it more than anything in the world." He chuckles viciously over his temple. "I had no idea you were such a thirsty slut, John, I'm actually surprised. Congratulations on that."</p><p>Then, he picks up his pace again, as best as he can in that position, while speeding up his pumps on John's dick. His own erection feels like it's about to burst, what with the guy's erotic enthusiasm in pleasuring himself on Dirk's girth.</p><hr/><p>“You smug prick,” John counters without venom, panting heavily with a sideways smile, and wishing that sexy voice in his ear didn’t send a chill down his sweaty spine and make his dick twitch or have him feeling so many fucking things right now.</p><p>His arms brace themselves around the blond’s shoulders like a vice, deceptively strong, even though he’s plenty sure he couldn’t hold his own against Dirk’s solid physique, but it’s not gonna stop him from trying. John clamps down his thighs tight around the Strider’s hips, presses down hard on his dick to stop him from being able to thrust (god, so fucking deep), clenches his teeth and prays to all the gods that already having had a powerful orgasm earlier tonight helps him not squirt all over Dirk’s ruthless hand within ten seconds.</p><p>“Maybe I do love it,” he mutters breathlessly against Dirk’s ear, “but you can’t <em> fool me</em>, like hell you’re gonna pretend you’re not just as desperate for this as I am.” The brunette keeps rolling his hips in circles, with the minimum friction possible to tease, the gyrations of the blond’s girth deep inside of him alone making John mewl softly.</p><p>He nibbles at the helix of Dirk’s ear, before drawling in a throaty voice some more. “Call me a whore and a slut if you want, but you know what that tells me, Dirk? You’re so fucking horny for me right now- mph!” He has to repress a sob at the blond’s attempt to stab deep into him once more. “Yeah, that’s it.”</p><p>John’s head draws back, looking hazily through his eyelashes right into the Strider’s flaming eyes, whether they burn out of desire, or aggravation, or both is hard to tell, but they’re beautiful and delicious and the brunette drinks them up either way. He then leans closer to lick playfully at Dirk’s lips, with just the tip of his tongue, never letting him catch his mouth properly, and finally speaking almost against his lips. “Let me know how much you want it, Dirk.”</p><p>The younger man dips his head down to kiss, lick and suckle at the blond’s freckled neck, with no rush, stopping to make sure he properly sucks some marks into it. Seriously, what’s the freaking rush, he could do this all night and his cock is definitely not about to burst in that rough hand. It’s amazing how much dedication he devotes to staying calm. He pulls back from a particularly wet hickey, to grunt in his ear:</p><p>“If you really don’t care, fine. If you actually want it,<em> take it.</em>”</p><p>And he tops it with a ferocious hissing bite right on the crook of his neck.</p><hr/><p>The blond listens with a deepening glare as the brunette throws his ‘considerations’ at him, concluding the dissection with nothing short of a dare and some sure bruises on his irritatingly sensitive skin.</p><p>The thing is, John’s phrasing is laced with some undesired subtext. It doesn’t feel like he’s just talking about sexual attraction or their status as fuckbuddies of some sort, which is something Dirk is not willing to admit to.</p><p>He’s momentarily distracted by the hot ministrations John’s taken to on his neck, but he’s wrenched back into the moment when the man bites down hard on him, drawing out a sharp hiss from the older man. Son of a bitch, John is <em> actually </em>marking him.</p><p>By the sound of the guy’s voice, though, he is probably as desperate as he looks. It’s easy enough to think of an escape route.</p><p>Dirk latches his fingers onto John’s thighs and pulls them, using the momentum to drop him back onto the bed and loom over him again, their thighs pressed flush against each other.</p><p>He braces himself on the bed and leans in, sweaty, disheveled and mildly annoyed. “You’re reading too much into this, Egbert.”</p><p>And Dirk’s had enough of talking for now, so he assaults John’s mouth again, barely leaving enough room for them to breathe as he suddenly starts a brutal pace, making the bed creak loudly with every pound of his hips.</p><p>John can fucking take that as he will.</p><hr/><p>If Dirk’s sharp words were actual knives being thrown at him, John would have definitely bled to death very long ago. His chest hurts for a brief eternal moment. Is he...? Reading too much into things? What is Dirk even talking about? John just teased him back about being <em> horny</em>.</p><p>…it’s painfully obvious what he means.</p><p>…painfully.</p><p> </p><p>Unless?</p><p>His body language sure says fucking otherwise.</p><p>
  <em> You can’t trust Dirk’s words. You need to read into his actions. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Strider has lunged forward, pushing him back into the mattress to greedily consume his mouth, his teeth catching on John’s lips, their tongues getting deliciously tangled in a hungry dance. Like the horniest way to <em> shut him the hell up. </em></p><p>Sore spot, possibly.</p><p>It’s hard to reassess, however, with the man he’s inevitably crushing hard on plunging his fat dick into him as deep as it’ll go, fast, hard and furiously. Even if his stomach momentarily dropping to about floor-height bought him a minute or two.</p><p>Pretty sure that massive shaft has pushed it back into place by now, though. Dirk’s fucking him stupid into the bed with no respite, the brunette’s whimpers and keens into the blond’s mouth rising up again, even over the sound of their heavy and frantic breathing. John wraps his legs around his waist for purchase and <em> nothing more, </em> not that the feel of their bodies sliding against each other tight isn’t fucking delectable. He kisses back fiercely, rakes his nails down Dirk’s back muscles, and twitches and jolts pleasurably around the pounding, letting the feelings flood him and behaving, until he has to finally come out for air. He takes the moment to say some words that are gonna burn through his lungs if he doesn’t get them out.</p><p>“Jeez, sorry. I was just trying to get back at you a little. Didn’t mean much by it.” He coos softly in his ear. His vindication will have to come in the form of apology moans he’s allowing out against Dirk’s neck. </p><p>All that can be heard for a while is their ragged breathing, their hips slapping together, and possibly John’s collection of more and increasingly embarrassing noises, but fuck it, because physically he feels amazing, he’s stuffed to the brim with Strider cock, and the whole world can hear how good this shit is from his own obscenely loud mouth for all he cares. He even has to stop the peppering of soft kisses behind and under Dirk’s ear.</p><p>“Ah, fuck, aahh~~” John catches the blond’s mouth for one more instant before he lets it slip away through a loud moan, and he throws his head back against the pillow. “Ngh, so good, Dirk! Wreck me.”</p><hr/><p>Dirk’s attempt to make John swallow his intrusive jabs works.</p><p>Mostly.</p><p>The brunette’s mouth gets too busy to spout much more potentially disruptive remarks, managing only to fit one more in through what sounds like a sincere apology. If there is indeed honesty in it, Dirk will find the time to be embarrassed at his own disproportionate response <em> later</em>.</p><p>As of now, he can feel his muscles start to strain along with his lungs and his orgasm build up, so the blond leans down to support himself on an elbow and reach down to stroke John’s dick. Since his mouth is so close, he dips down and also adds another sucked bruise to the night’s inventory of body marking.</p><p>It’s easier to lose himself when there’s only physics involved. Frequency, period, distance over time, displacement, friction, force, gravity, magnetism, inevitability—</p><p>Dirk frowns. The kisses on his neck feel horribly intimate. They send a shiver down his spine that feels misplaced and just plain <em> wrong</em>. Amidst his restrained heaving, he grunts something alarmingly close to a whimper, then proceeds to shove his mouth against John’s skin to stifle further soft sounds, focusing instead on matching his thrusts to the jerks of his hand.</p><hr/><p>It feels so right.</p><p>He never wants to stop being tightly trapped underneath that big, warm, sweaty body, or squirming and twitching around that rock-hard dick. Almost worth it not to cum, if they get to do this forever.</p><p>Almost, cause John’s gonna die if he doesn’t get there within the next minute, with that thick cock pounding mercilessly on his sweetest spots and Dirk’s firm hand pumping his dick in a frenzy.</p><p>Also, the noises the blond’s making against his flesh, that resonate all the way into his bones, his dick, and. His fucking heart, ok.</p><p>“Please, pl-ah!! please don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck me fuck me <em> fuck me</em>” his mouth wants to keep frantically pleading but desperate broken moans cut through the words, there’s no more begging, just burning hot pleasure. John’s fingers dig into the Strider’s back muscles and he thrashes, jerks, trembles, clamped tight around Dirk’s powerful body. He lets out a high sobbing cry as his whole body clenches, his orgasm overcomes him and he paints the blond’s stomach with a hot streak of cum.</p><hr/><p>As John shakes and writhes under and around him into his orgasm, Dirk falters in his movements, a consequence of his own impending climax. It’s become difficult to delay it, what with the man beneath him looking like the very image of ecstasy.</p><p>He’s willing to admit it feels fucking good to know he’s the one making John scream his pleasure like that. Some pathologically sadistic part of him hopes the walls are thin enough for his mewls to echo through the hallways of this goddamn retrograde boomer-infested building.</p><p>Ultimately, though, he just feels fucking fantastic. His body is warm, pleasantly worn out and buzzing with waves of pleasure from the grip of John’s hole on his dick. Once the brunette is squirming in the over-sensitivity of his afterglow, Dirk lets go and slams home into his peak, biting down on the junction of the other’s shoulder and neck as he comes, groaning amidst panted breaths.</p><p>And for one blissful moment, his mind is completely blank.</p><p>No thoughts, no idle musings, no obsessive logical chains of facts and arguments. Just their mismatched breathing, their skins cooling down together, their muscles twitching with aftershocks of their orgasms. Dirk braces himself on the bed by his elbows, forehead resting on John’s collarbone as he enjoys what’s left of the glorious joint silence.</p><p>After a while, though, other sensations start to make themselves known, such as the stickiness between their bodies and around his dick. Then, with a deep sigh, the blond sits up and pulls out of the brunette. They’re both some right messes, which is how two people should look after having toe-curling, back-scratching sex.</p><p>And John sure as fuck did that. Dirk’s face twitches when he feels the burn along his vertebrae. Goddamn, the guy is clingy as fuck.</p><p>He ties the condom and grabs a tissue from the drawer, wrapping it in the paper and haphazardly wiping himself with it. John is dirty too, but he can take care of himself. Unless…</p><p>…</p><p>Dirk realizes he’s staring at him, then turns away and reclines back on the pillows beside John. He throws an arm above his own head, watching his chest heave with the last seconds of catching his breath. Something pops up in his mind. It must be past midnight by now.</p><p>“By the way,” Dirk drawls, his voice husky from exhaustion, “happy birthday.”</p><hr/><p>In all the glorious but blinding haze of his climax, John has the curious sensation that…</p><p>A few seconds into his afterglow, Dirk rams into him desperately, bites down on his neck like a rabid wolf, prompting a gasp from John he’s sure the blond misses, from the intensity of his own deep anguished moans barely stifled against his flesh. Fuck if that’s not rapidly becoming his favorite sound ever. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have to get used to, that’s for sure. As much as the spot where he bit him is throbbing in pain right now.</p><p>So yeah, he… he waited to watch John orgasm? To finally come?</p><p>That makes something squirm deep in the brunette’s stomach, even if he’s too blissed out to do a lot of mental math right now. Or any. His eyelids glide shut almost immediately, like he just got deliciously fucked into a coma or something. Dirk’s head rests against his shoulder. John can feel his breathing against his chest. He’s never felt more relaxed in his life. Feels like floating.</p><p>After a delightfully quiet span, he feels Dirk push himself up and get off (and out) of him, barely managing to softly groan in protest at his warmth suddenly leaving him bare. Too fucking exhausted.</p><p>He is dragged out of his shallow, half-lidded slumber by the Strider’s drawl.</p><p>
  <em> Happy birthday. </em>
</p><p>Oh right, he’s 21, almost.</p><p>…</p><p>John freezes for a second, an uncomfortable chill running down his spine.</p><p>Birthday gift…? He swallows with difficulty.</p><p>…</p><p>…no. Fuck that. That doesn’t account for Dirk wrenching him from his own sister, getting hot and heavy with him at his best friend’s party, taking… taking John home with him.</p><p>John snorts as he shifts a bit on his side.</p><p>“Grab me a tissue, will you.”</p><p>While he wipes himself down, his eyes land on the open alarm clock Dirk has in the corner of the room behind him, with all its little gears and sprockets visible. <em> Nerd. </em></p><p>“It’s actually 11:58, so,” John smirks lazily, “you’re early for the happy birthday wishing. How come that Strider precision is wavering on you?” He jokes with one eyebrow raised and a quick flick of his tongue. “It’s ok, though. You can take your birthday gift back, and… give it to me tomorrow. You know, on the right date.” He laughs breathlessly. </p><p>After flashing a shy smile at the blond, John leans his back his head on the pillow, closes his eyes, and sighs peacefully.</p><hr/><p>Dirk obliges, reaching over and handing him a sheet as well. “I’m rounding up, dickhead.” Despite the insult, he’s smiling ever so slightly to the ceiling, eyes closed. “Before you fall asleep on my bed.”</p><p>Speaking of which…</p><p><em> Are you gonna stay over?</em>, he’s about to ask, when another question careens into his current train of thought and his face morphs into an apprehensive frown.</p><p>“Wait, I didn’t give you anything.” The blond turns his head to the side to stare at John. “Did you take a souvenir while I wasn’t looking? That’s kleptomania, John, I think you should get that checked out,” he jokes lazily. Exhaustion is creeping up on him really fast.</p><hr/><p>That question makes John smile way wider than he could ever intend to.</p><p>“Just a couple of your forks and spoons, and some of your underwear. Hotel rules, right? It’s a quirk, indulge me.” He chuckles.</p><p>It’s hard to not freak out at being naked in Dirk’s bed, looking at those eyes. It’s… goddamn. John hopes it’s not showing on his face. He’s just too fucking sexy.</p><p>“Fine, maybe I didn’t take anything. But I will now.” He lunges forward to steal a quick kiss, pulling Dirk’s bottom lip softly between his before returning to his allotted position on the other pillow with a contented hum. It would be so nice to… lie on his chest for a bit. Or… rest in the crook of his arm. But John’s not sure if he’s allowed to.</p><p>It’s still nice to be curled in bed looking at him, though. Sweet and soothing. His eyelids are starting to get heavy over his blue eyes.</p><hr/><p>The blond snorts, his smile stretching as he turns away again.</p><p>His escape tactic doesn’t last long, though, because John’s chasing his mouth to kiss him softly. It tastes sweet and addictive in the haze of their afterglow, but something inside the Strider tells him to back off.</p><p>John looks blissed the fuck out and not at all on guard. In fact, he looks about to doze off. Maybe because he’s gotten what he wanted?</p><p>Dirk readjusts himself on the mattress and grimaces. His spine feels sticky and gross against the covers, which makes his next top need become a fucking shower. But then again…</p><p>Oh, the brunette’s eyes are closed. He seems to be breathing ever so silently, too.</p><p>Shit. So this is happening. John’s staying the night, sober and consciously, on his bed. Together. With Dirk.</p><p>Fuck’s sake, Strider, you’ve slept with casual partners before. Grow the fuck up.</p><p>He lowers his voice to whisper to John: “You’re welcome to take a shower if you want.” This is his last chance to confirm whether he’s going home or not in a subtle manner. “I might be an asshole, but I’m not a bad host.”</p><hr/><p>John can barely open his eyes, much less at that soft murmur of a deep Strider voice. Does that make sense? He’s so cozy and tired.</p><p>He does manage to grant him two narrow deep blue slivers.</p><p>“Do you mind if I don’t?” He barely achieves the slightest low-energy grimace. “I know we’re kinda sticky and gross, but” his eyes close again of their own accord, no matter how bad he wants to look up at Dirk, “…you might have to carry me there.” He snorts. “I’m so wrecked.” His voice becomes softer and softer. “Of course… it’s up to you.”</p><p>John sighs quietly through his nose, lips parted, and completely absent-minded, to the point of <em> almost gone</em>, he asks:</p><p>“Why would you be an asshole...”</p><hr/><p>Even after John’s slipped into a soft snooze, Dirk just keeps staring at him. His tangerine gaze traces the relaxed features of his face, the sharp contour of his body, the bruised patches of his skin. If the blond’s being honest with himself, he looks fucking delicious.</p><p>His hand reaches out of its own volition towards the younger’s face, but Dirk catches himself before doing something he can’t excuse himself out of, even to his own pride. Instead, he gets up, opens a closet, grabs a folded blanket and clean boxers, closes the door and turns back to the bed.</p><p>John is curled up on himself over the duvet and he doesn’t feel like disturbing the brunette right now, so he unravels the soft blanket and spreads it out over him.</p><p>Yeah, that should be decent enough.</p><p>He grabs his boxers and towel before slipping inside the bathroom and shutting the door.</p><p>The blond takes twice the time to shower than he normally would take, then dries himself off, slips into his clean underwear and creeps into the bed under the covers. John will have to forgive him.</p><p>His mind races for another half hour, then gives out and succumbs to unconsciousness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry we had a span without any updates! This holiday-adjacent season b like that. ;) Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Dirk’s woken up by warmth. After a few more seconds back into awareness, he remembers he hasn’t opened the blinds. Then, what—</p>
<p>Oh. He’s being hugged. Alright.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>..</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>He’s being<em> spooned. By John Egbert. </em></p>
<p>Dirk’s eyes fly open and focus straight onto the man’s face a few inches below him. They’ve somehow managed to get the duvet halfway off the blond’s body, leaving John halfway on top of him instead. Their legs and arms are tangled. Dirk has no recollection of how this arrangement came to be.</p>
<p>But it’s getting hot, in more than one way, so Strider pokes the sleeping idiot. “John. Wake up. You’re gross and too warm for my morning temperature,” he grumbles, shaking the brunette’s hip.</p><hr/>
<p>The last thing in John’s mind during this period of blissed out existence is <em> waking up. </em>Also, he’s fucking asleep, he can’t make any damn decisions. Sue him.</p>
<p>Something makes the bottom half of his body sway, in his dreams it’s probably a broad calloused hand attached to a blond, but all that succeeds in is eliciting a deep-sleep annoyed groan from the brunette. Make the things trying to wake him up stop, he was riding a gallon-bottle dick half the night, baby needs his rest. Besides, the <em> mattress/pillow/duvet/whatever he’s lying on </em>is so cozy, and ergonomic, and warm, and smells good, and doesn’t feel like any of those things at all. It’s fucking awesome. Even if it’s making some impatient noises in his ear that he can’t hear because he’s so asleep, whatever it is.</p>
<p>Stay still, strangely alluring twitching bed. There’s no way he’s gonna move, he’s conked out, plus every part of him is nestled and/or trapped in the perfect position in just the right comfy spot. Namely: his face is buried into the crook of the pillow’s neck, breathing softly in his sleep, his limbs are all tangled up and intertwined with the bed’s limbs, <em>why do beds have limbs</em>, whatever, he doesn’t care, he’s asleep, and his whole upper body is lying on the heated, rising and falling and quietly inhaling mattress. </p>
<p>John slips his leg deeper in the gap between two cushions or whatever the hell they are, who knows, he’s not conscious, and it’s great 'cause the space is tender and soft as fuck and warm, getting even a little too warm now. But not enough to wake him up. Everything about this sleeping surface is perfect.</p>
<p>Except… now there’s something stiff poking at his thigh.</p>
<p>But it’s ok. Cause he’s very much asleep.</p><hr/>
<p>Asleep, my ass. </p>
<p>Dirk growls when John rubs against his dick, already half hard from morning reasons, and pushes him harder. "John, wake the fuck up, I've got work to do." Freelancers never rest.</p>
<p>The brunette, however, doesn't budge, still snoring softly and adorably next to his face. Dirk swallows. Great. Now he's horny.</p>
<p>He could probably just wrench the man from him, but he doesn't really want to resort to force right now. He's not violent, despite what people say. Or see. Or hear. Anyway.</p>
<p>Instead, the blond grabs him and rolls on top of him, hoping to unwind his grip on him.</p>
<p>It backfires.</p>
<p>John latches on to his neck and <em> squeezes</em>, getting Dirk's face shoved onto his shoulder. The man's hips rock upwards, too, which <em> does not help </em>matters right now.</p>
<p>Dirk bites his lip. He's going to <em> end </em>him.</p>
<p>"Egbert," he rumbles over John's throat, "get off of me."</p><hr/>
<p>Getting rolled around in bed drags John out of DAFS cycle (Deep As Fuck Sleep, look it up), if only to execute the whiniest, grumpiest, I-Am-Not-A-Morning-Brat™️ drawn-out groan his body has the energy for. His plan was to stay like this forever, who dares disrupt it, it was a solid as hell long-term plan. Oh, it’s Dirk, he deems with his eyes still closed, at the feel of 200 pounds of sturdy man pushing him down into the bed. Ok, nice. He vaguely purrs against him.</p>
<p>His first conscious thought is: wow, Dirk smells so fucking tasty. And he’s so soft and warm. And his stiff erection is rubbing so nicely against John’s.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Ok, that gets his attention and his eyes flutter open.</p>
<p>He would be hard-pressed to correctly interpret the Strider’s facial expression in his very drowsy and pleasant haze, a mix of annoyance and pink-faced horniness, but that tends to be normal. Plus, John’s filter couldn’t be lower, as in <em> gone</em>, after the night they had together, nearly 12 fucking hours of sweet exhausted sleep, and waking up tangled up in Dirk’s arms, so things just happen around him instead of him actively <em> doing them</em>. That’s a super valid excuse, shut up. </p>
<p>“Mm. M’rning, Dirk” he murmurs against his hair, softening his grip so the blond can look up at him. And John can look back down, smiling sleepily. Stupid gorgeous Strider eyes and also everything else. His dick, pressed between them, twitches conspicuously at the sight.</p>
<p>And like the most natural gesture that could ever come to him, John fists that blond hair, pulls them closer, melts their lips together softly, and finds Dirk’s delicious tongue with his, freeing a pleased groan into his mouth.</p><hr/>
<p>The noises the brunette makes in his slumbering stupor sound like something forbidden. Dirk feels his face heat up, unsure if from irritation or discomfort. He barely wants to look up when John eases his arms around him, but he does put some extra effort into the glare he throws the younger’s way. The move is cut short, though, because his mouth is robbed on the next available second.</p>
<p>John’s kiss doesn’t distract him from his irritation, except it actually does, pretty much. Dirk finds himself giving in to the kiss, even if they have morning breath and their bodies are far too hot and wet and sticky to be anywhere near pleasant. Maybe his metabolism just hasn’t properly kicked into gear yet, and that’s why he finds his hands snaking down to grab the man’s ass and pulls his hips against himself, rubbing their crotches together.</p>
<p>It’s slow, appropriate for a lazy awakening after a night of intense sex. The alcohol must have numbed down the recoil from the exertion, but left them exhausted.</p>
<p>Also, Dirk pointedly avoids facing the fact that John spent the night. Cuddling him. This is slightly a lot more compromising than a sloppy fuck in public or hate-sex after a house invasion.</p>
<p>Well, there might be some perks, he muses. His hips rock forth in a long swing, rutting the head of his cock along the underside of John’s shaft, and both men groan into the kiss.</p><hr/>
<p>Deeply immersed in the daze of the horniest wakeup in history, John can’t even conjure the concept of self-restraint into his mind, especially after feeling the Strider rutting hungrily against his crotch, so he just lets himself whine shamelessly into his tongue. Everything is sloppy wet kissing, stifled moaning and increasingly lascivious below-the-belt contact, plus, if they start thinking they might end this beautiful <em> beasts in heat </em> morning routine, which is a big no-no.</p>
<p>John uncurls one of his arms from around Dirk’s neck to slide it in between them, stroking down his tight stomach, with the express goal of slipping his fingers into the blond’s underwear and running them lazily down his erect length. As much as his instinct is to leave his other hand where it is, pressing down to keep the blond’s mouth flush against his, he places trust in the hope that Dirk’s intensely greedy lips aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. He runs his other arm down the blond’s back, his hand coming to rest at his asscheek with a squeeze, ready to get into the back of his underwear too as soon as humanly possible. There’s already too much fabric in between them two minutes in. And their in-unison moans agree.</p>
<p>The need to breathe is getting so annoying lately. As he comes out for air momentarily, John rejects the preposterous interruption of contact by diving to attack the blond’s neck, licking lewdly, sucking eagerly, and panting heavy against the wet skin. Dirk’s body and voice are getting more responsive by the second, it’s a fucking delight to feel and hear, and John sighs deeply in pure bliss.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>There’s a sudden shrill noise coming from the next room. The phone rings, loud and obstructive, and the brunette groans within one nanosecond of the disruption.</p>
<p><em> “Don’t take it” </em> he grunts low against Dirk’s neck, not stopping the kisses for longer than one single pragmatic second, and reaffirming his grip on the blond’s cock even tighter for emphasis.</p><hr/>
<p>John’s fingers close around his hard-on and Dirk is fucking sold. Whatever, since they’re already doing this whole fuckbuddy thing, might as well make the most of it.</p>
<p>The blond focuses on kissing him intensely, every move of his lips and tongue sensual and precise, until the brunette parts to breathe and the landline ring goes off. Great.</p>
<p><em> This is MY house, idiot, </em> Dirk feels like snarling, but it’s not like he was planning on answering it anyway. It’s Saturday and he’s got company, fuck off.</p>
<p>Instead, he braces himself on the bed on his arms and starts a trail of kisses down John’s neck, across his collarbones and over his chest. A particularly sharp jerk of the man’s hand makes him groan on his skin and he sucks hard in retaliation/reward.</p>
<p>The phone keeps ringing insistently, but it gets easier to ignore it by the second, their bodies growing more heated and frantic.</p>
<p><em> Ring</em>.</p>
<p>Hands trail down to wrap around a pulsating member.</p>
<p><em> Ring</em>.</p>
<p>Bodies shift to accommodate their pumping and groping.</p>
<p><em> Ring</em>.</p>
<p>Breaths come quicker, ragged, laced with wet sounds of kissing and biting and moaning.</p>
<p><em> Click</em>. <em> “Oh, good morning, Dirk!” </em> Jane’s distorted voice comes through the answering machine. Dirk falters in his movements. Shit, right, <em> Jane. “I’m terribly sorry to come unannounced,” </em> she continues, <em> “but you didn’t reply to my texts and your mobile seems to be turned off. I’ve had to step out for some errands and wanted to take the chance to bring you your sound equipment.” </em> Thank god she hasn’t been able to reach him, then. Dirk closes his eyes, biting his lip at a choice suckle on his neck. <em> “I know how…protective you are of them, hoho.” </em> Indeed he is. John whines his name in his ear, Dirk bites his earlobe. <em> “In any case, I’ll only be a minute, so if you could be a dear and open the gate to let me up, I can be done with this already. Or if you would prefer, I can maybe leave it with-- oh, wonderful! Never mind, someone has just come out and held the door for me. I’m coming up. See you in a minute!” </em></p>
<p>It takes a second for him to register, but the second it does, he shoots back up from his tangle with John, staring at him with wide eyes. Dirk’s not ready to explain shit to his dearest friend, who also happens to be <em> John’s fucking sister</em>. He doesn’t even quite know how to explain it to <em> himself </em>yet.</p>
<p>His voice has the sharpness of a sword when he utters: “Hide somewhere not stupid. <em> Now</em>.”</p>
<p>And then he’s leaping out of the bed, wincing through his room with a raging boner to grab some pants that hopefully conceal the obvious state of arousal he’s in. It’s not like Jane will be here for long, but at this point, there’s evidence scattered all around, so Dirk curses throughout kicking discarded clothes aside, trying to throw the duvet over the messy bed, tossing John’s glasses into the drawer and more or less fixing his hair after a spray of water to the face.</p>
<p>He could just ignore her, but she’s already here. Plus, it’s almost mid-day. She knows he’s a light sleeper. He supposedly left the party early because he was tired. If you add it up, it sounds at the very least fishy, and the blond doesn’t take risks.</p>
<p>Besides, Dirk’s got his share of shitspoken fame. As close as Jane is to him, he’s not sure how she would react to finding out her best friend is getting it on with her beloved little brother. So yeah, secrecy it is.</p>
<p>The place (and Dirk himself) looks more or less in order and John’s already fucked off into some hiding place when there’s a knock on the door. He grabs a shirt from the closet and shrugs it on before shutting the door and padding towards the entrance beside the kitchen.</p>
<p>He gives one last look into the apartment before opening the door, lower half mostly hidden behind the wooden panel, and being greeted by ice-sharp eyes and a smart smile. When it hits him how even more familiar that expression looks now, Dirk realizes with a great amount of dread that he’s forgotten his shades on the nightstand.</p>
<p>“Mornin’.”</p><hr/>
<p>Oh great, the answering machine.</p>
<p>John’s not listening, he has a very eager mouth on him after all, so it’s all a distant uninteresting warble, white noise as he enthusiastically fists Dirk’s cock, much more focused on his earnest sounds of approval. It keeps going on in the background though, a female voice… it vaguely makes John wonder who the hell that bitch i- oh wait, nevermind. Back to biting on every patch of Dirk’s flesh he has access to, then. And rutting against each other, the ruttin’s good.</p>
<p>… </p>
<p>Eventually his mind zeroes in on some words, haphazardly and against his horny will. Goddammit, shut up.</p>
<p>
  <em> …sound equipment </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> …see you in a minute </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> hoho? </em>
</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Wait WHAT-</p>
<p>HOLY SHIT THE BITCH IS HIS SISTER, <b>GODDAMN FUCKING HELL</b></p>
<p>.</p>
<p>..</p>
<p>...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The seconds they spend staring at each other in wide-eyed panic feel like the longest of his life.</p>
<p>John also grimaces at the view as Dirk shoots up from the bed, tastefully neglecting to voice his question of <em> I can fucking hide myself somewhere, but how are you gonna hide THAT BIG BAD BOY</em>, because that area of discussion can’t get anywhere productive right now, not fast enough. He stresses out some more sitting on the bed, frozen, while Dirk runs around like a headless chicken, kicking shit out of view and throwing a duvet over his head like he can’t even see him, for some reason. Holy crap, his freakout is not exactly helping him calm down. At least he only has to hide.</p>
<p>…good lord, Dirk has to actually <em> go deal with her </em> within the next minute. Not cool. John bites his own lip in guilt, musing, but after liberating himself from the fabric and fluff prison and more or less flattening the duvet, he just goes do what he’s been told.</p>
<p>The closet seems like a good option. He steps inside, pointedly not trying to appreciate the irony of the current situation, instead debating with himself whether to sit in a corner in fetal position, but. Why. He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath, desperately trying to regain some calm at a moment when there’s a billion horrified thoughts going through his brain and basically no blood flowing through it. 'Shit shit <em> shit' </em> is the closest thing to a coherent mental process he has going on.</p>
<p>Dirk slips halfway into the closet, making him jump, and retreats fast with a shirt in his hands, apparently not even noticing the brunette. The ambient is fucking heavy, and John has to swallow through a lump in his throat. God, it’s not like they’re not two consenting adults in a private setting, it shouldn’t be that big a deal. It shouldn’t. </p>
<p>But here he is, hiding from his sister <em> inside a literal closet. </em> Like a shameful secret. Fuck, he should really talk to her. Again.</p>
<p>Wait, what the hell is he thinking?? No! This is absolutely not the fucking time to do this!!</p>
<p>…hopefully.</p><hr/>
<p>Jane parts her smile to greet him, but stops midway. Instead, she blinks and looks him up and down. Well, at least down to the part not poorly concealed behind the door. The sound equip is stacked on the floor in the hallway.</p>
<p>“Oh dear, I’m sorry, I thought you’d be awake by now,” she raises a neatly manicured hand to her mouth, flustered. “You could have just ignored me, you know.”</p>
<p>Dirk shrugs as nonchalantly as he gets. “Nah, I was up already. Don’t worry.”</p>
<p>The woman smiles fondly at him. “Your shirt is on backwards, darling.”</p>
<p>He blinks and looks down. <em> Motherfucker. </em></p>
<p>“You must have been really tired.” Her eyebrows furrow, but then her eyes lock onto somewhere below his face and she widens her eyes with a knowing look. “Really tired, indeed.”</p>
<p>Confusion flashes through his face before realization hits and he smacks a hand on his neck.</p>
<p>
  <em> Fucking John. </em>
</p>
<p>Dirk feels like, if he focused carefully, he could die right on the spot. God fucking damn it.</p>
<p>Then, Jane looks like she wants to say or ask something, but gives up in favor of getting on with her life, apparently.</p>
<p>“Rest assured, I’m not offended,” she chuckles at his embarrassment. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing somewhat, but his eyes must be giving him away even faster than the heat on his face. “Yesterday’s party was more of a company formality, anyway. Nevertheless, I’m glad you attended, even if that is not our usual rite of celebration.”</p>
<p>The man snorts. “Sorry about that.”</p>
<p>Jane waves him off and turns around to grab the gear. “So, are you going to let me in or do you have company?”</p>
<p>“No, I’m alone,” he says, then immediately berates himself for it. He knows Jane doesn’t usually prod and doesn’t give a shit about that, why is he further compromising himself?</p>
<p>Speaking of which, there is still something <em> very obvious and compromising </em> in the scenario here. Dirk swallows and nods, pulling open the door while still covering himself.</p>
<p>She strolls in, hugging the two pieces over her chest, then places them on the living room. The blond closes the door and hides his lower body behind a corner as discreetly as he can. Which is not much.</p>
<p>“There, dutifully returned.” Jane dusts off her hands and grimaces. “I don’t suppose you could let me use your washroom for a bit?”</p>
<p>When she looks up at him, Dirk quickly leans over the couch. He doesn’t really know where John’s hiding, but he hopes the guy got the clue at the terms <em> somewhere not stupid </em>to not hide in the only fucking bathroom in the house.</p>
<p>From the hesitant look on Jane’s face, the blond realizes he’s taken too long to answer. “Uh, yeah, sure, go on ahead. My brain’s still booting up.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t seem convinced, but strides over to the bedroom door and walks in. Dirk holds his breath as he hears another door close. He takes the reprieve to steel himself into a state of un-boner before the flush goes off and the faucet starts running.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Jane washes her hands and fixes a stray lock of hair in front of the mirror. She’s not going back home for a while, it’s nice to seize the opportunity to use a clean bathroom. After deeming herself presentable, the woman exits the bathroom and closes the door behind her.</p>
<p>It’s not the first time she’s been to Dirk’s room or house, but it still feels wrong to snoop around, so she makes for the hallway door immediately.</p>
<p>Except something bright catches her eye.</p>
<p>Something bright and silly and owned by the only person goofy enough to actually buy it. Something she’s seen hanging from the clothes wire over the past few weeks. Something that matches what she’s found on the floor of her assistant’s office on a day he didn’t even come in.</p>
<p>Jane bites her lip, trying not to grin. She hears rustling from somewhere close and slams the gavel on the verdict.</p>
<p>When she comes out, her face is calm and pleased. Dirk looks up, still braced on the couch.</p>
<p>“Thank you for lending me your loo. I have a long day ahead of me, regrettably.” Then, Jane licks her lips, putting on the purest expression of innocence she can muster, a small pout to boot. Jesus christ, he’s fucking a gender-bent version of his best friend. “I’d planned to spend the day with John to celebrate another year in our lives, but I haven’t managed to get in touch with him either. He’s also not home…” She’s biting her lip, staring at the floor, before she expertly looks up. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I believe you guys left around the same time yesterday, you might have ran into one another downstairs.”</p>
<p>Dirk’s brain blares execution error windows at him like a computer with one too many tasks open and one too shitty processor. He doesn’t look at her at first, choosing instead to close some tabs first before glancing up, face neutral.</p>
<p>“Not really. Last time I saw him was at the party. He was dancing with Roxy, if I recall correctly,” he lies like a fucking pro.</p>
<p>Jane nods. “I see. Maybe he’s spent the night with someone, then. Or at someone’s house.”</p>
<p>Dirk hums noncommittally. Jane sighs and makes for the door, which prompts him to sigh out in silent relief.</p>
<p>“Oh, by the way,” she stops in her tracks and Dirk’s head snaps up at her again. “Since last night was mostly about me, I was planning to host a dinner in honor of John's birthday tonight. I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you came.”</p>
<p>The blond lets out a breath. “I don’t think we’re that close, Jane. Not sure he’d dig some random acquaintance hanging around during his special dinner with his sister.”</p>
<p>The woman listens with amusement in her eyes. “You reckon? Why don’t we ask him, then?” Dirk barely has the chance to gather his thoughts into a convincing argument to dissuade her when Jane turns her face towards the bedroom and calls loudly: “JOHN? Do you mind if Dirk joins us for our birthday dinner tonight?”</p>
<p>Yeah, Dirk could <em> definitely </em>die right now.</p>
<p>He hangs his head, grinding his teeth so hard that his skull feels like it’s being squashed by a hydraulic press. His whole body is alight with embarrassment right now, and he absolutely fucking deserves it. He also can’t really bring himself to face her.</p><hr/>
<p>Being in Dirk's closet feels more compromising than being in between his sheets, somehow. Or maybe it's John's brain freaking out while trying to make some goddamn sense of this situation. Whatever it is, being in bed with him bare, together, close to each other is at least <em> understandable</em>. Hiding in the closet of a man who won't let him in substantially, is maddeningly confusing. Also, <em> he's fucking naked in there too </em> for extra chagrin, another emotion to add to the pile of <em> things that feel very wrong right now</em>. Like looking at Dirk's clothes, his personal items, it's like looking at a hidden part of his life. <em> Of Dirk Strider's.  </em></p>
<p>John doesn't need to mull it over to instinctively know it's plain wrong. Even worse, being able to hear his voice and his sister's chatting away in the next room while in the middle of this unseemly mess.</p>
<p>Yet somehow it's <em> him </em> that feels exposed, and he shudders from more than the chill on his bare skin. Anxious to do something with himself that's not <em>looking in that half-open box in the corner for Dirk insights</em>, he arbitrarily picks some clothes to put on. Will he mind? The decision is sort of made for him, when not even dressed yet he hears steps he could swear are <em> inside the actual bedroom</em>, his eyes wide and body completely frozen.</p>
<p>He manages to unblock it long enough to make himself almost decent, slipping on a soft orange hoodie and some sort of black… basketball shorts? Whatever, it's pants that won't slide off his significantly smaller frame because they have an elastic waistband, fucking good enough.</p>
<p>Fumbling into the shorts, he bumps back against the wall shelf, prompting a stack of towels to fall over his head with a rustle, and his jaws to clench shut in tension. Could have sworn that someone's still pacing through the bedroom, too. <em> Shit</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em> Just hold your breath behind your hand, don't move, and avoid screaming in frustration. </em>
</p>
<p>There's silence again. Just the bathroom, maybe. </p>
<p>As he leans down to fix the tragic towel avalanche of April 13th, casualties his neck and his little leftover pride, his eyes catch something. In the back of the closet. </p>
<p>In that goddamn ominous box.</p>
<p>
  <em> The Little Prince. </em>
</p>
<p>...by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry?</p>
<p>John's deep blue eyes stare for a few seconds, sticking to the book but not really focusing, completely entranced and having a million concurrent thoughts and feelings.</p>
<p>In Dirk’s walk-in closet.</p>
<p>Any possible incoming epiphany is swift and ruthlessly interrupted by Jane's loud piping voice, with a calling that includes HIS NAME, and then a string of fucking words that don't register because his mind’s too busy committing seppuku at a cellular level in pure shock and dread. While crouching down holding a pile of towels. In Dirk's closet.</p>
<p>John swallows hard and tight, with his fingerpads pressing down over his closed eyes. Happy birthday, have a stress headache. </p>
<p>Might as well get out there, right now, and face the inevitable music. </p>
<p>Wonder who he's more terrified of right now, of the people waiting out there in the living area, unsettlingly invisible behind the ajar bedroom door: Jane or Dirk?</p>
<p>…he knows the answer.</p>
<p>John's not gonna lose his sister.</p>
<p>"Hey, Jane." He finally comes out, barely able to look up from the floor. Although he could have sworn his sister was <em> grinning</em>. Motherfucker.</p>
<p>"So, um." John rubs the back of his neck, feeling it burn with a raging blush, as is every patch of his exposed skin. "...birthday tonight?"</p><hr/>
<p>All of Dirk’s silent pleas that John would stay put and hopefully allow him to deal with this by himself and talk to Jane in private are obliterated when he hears soft shuffling on the wooden floor. This can’t be happening.</p>
<p>Not so soon, at least. He hasn’t come up with a way to deal with this yet.</p>
<p>But fine, he can do improv, too. Dirk is nothing if not a fighter.</p>
<p>John stutters through a hesitant answer and the blond looks up. His eyes zero in on the man’s outfit and a new wave of embarrassment courses through him.</p>
<p>Out of all acceptable clothes in his closet, Egbert chose the one hoodie he only wears at home and so far has not been glanced at by anyone outside his family. It’s even got some stains, if you look closely. Dirk shuts his eyes and pinches his nose.</p>
<p>The worst part is that he still looks fucking delicious in it.</p>
<p>It’s Jane who speaks up first then, thankfully or not, he can’t really decide. “Perfect. I’ll stop by the grocery store on my way back to buy the ingredients for dinner, so let me know what you’d like to have.”</p>
<p>She walks up to John then, kisses his forehead and pulls back to smile at him. Most of the feelings expressed on her face are related to fondness, but there’s the undeniable tinge of amusement mixed in with the rest. “It’s been a while since we’ve cooked together, has it not? It’s a good way to get the gossip up to date.”</p>
<p>The businesswoman then turns on her heels, clacking them on the boards over to Dirk. The man musters the composure to open his unveiled eyes and look up at her, his face red under the freckles and scars.</p>
<p>Jane lifts a hand to lightly cup his face. To him, she dedicates more of a cocky gaze. “And Dirk, be a dear and bring the wine.” Yeah, they’re gonna need it.</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am,” he replies sarcastically, which makes her chuckle.</p>
<p>She releases him and walks up to the door. “I really do have to go now, though, so, we can talk later tonight.” Jane looks between the two flustered boys, satisfied to note they look like kids caught with their hands inside the pot. It’s totally unnecessary, which makes it even more endearing. She plans on having a little fun with it. Just a tiny bit. “Until then, you have some time to work on your cock-and-bull story together.”</p>
<p>Jane opens the door and looks over her shoulder. “Take care, sweethearts.”</p>
<p>The door shuts quietly and Dirk sighs heavily, letting his forehead sink on the back of the couch. Well, at least his boner is gone.</p><hr/>
<p>Jane holds him, Jane <em> kisses his temple</em>, like that was the only reaction to possibly, conceivably come out of her. John stays there, dumbfounded as she withdraws and talks to Dirk, wanting to both cry and hug her for about an hour straight. He swallows through the whirlwind until she leaves.</p>
<p>“…well. She didn’t freak out or toss anyone out the window, so.” Dammit, why did that thought happen out loud. It’s the worst time possible for no-filter nervous jabbering, but truth be told, John’s still metaphorically and literally shaking from the undeniably unnerving sequence of getting startled out of his mind halfway through sex, hiding butt-naked in a closet (yeah yeah <em> hilarious</em>), coming out of said closet to his sister in every sense of the expression (less hilarious), and… phew. Now facing Dirk. That seems to be something. That has to happen.</p>
<p><em> Or just cut your losses and go</em>, his pessimistic brain unhelpfully chimes in, and he bites the inside of his cheek. </p>
<p>
  <em> …hell no. </em>
</p>
<p>“Sorry… about that.” True, but not entirely sure <em> why</em>. “And… your clothes.” The brunette scrunches his eyes tight and, who are we kidding, his whole face, then stares at the somehow increasingly fascinating floorboards, flushed. “…still. She, um. That was sweet. She’s so great.” He smiles warm and fond, still facing downward. “I’m sure I’m in for a good ass-humping though.” Wording. <em> Wording</em>. “Uh, later. I mean, cooking dinner. And talking.” Just. Shut your trap for a freaking second. Breathe some air, it’s a good habit.</p>
<p>“I-if you want to talk I’m cool with that, and if you don’t… that’s cool, too.” John chews on his bottom lip anxiously, trying to spy the Strider subtly off the corner of his eye without looking very directly, but it backfires because he’s still unbespectacled and he has to actually stare and squint to make out anything. Dirk’s still, just. Leaning over the back of the couch.</p>
<p>John… would approach him. But he won’t.</p>
<p>Instead, he tries to force his brain to desperately look for a way to not make this even more excruciating. What the hell is even safe to say right now?</p>
<p>“So. What’s your favorite dish, Dirk?”</p>
<p>…nailed it.</p><hr/>
<p>After gathering his thoughts and accusations in a fairly cohesive point to draw a course of action from, Dirk glances up. His body temperature feels more level now.</p>
<p>John looks about to merge with either the wall or the floor, or both. Whatever’s closer. A part of Dirk is pleased to know the man still fears him, but another just chastises him for sending the wrong signals. Needless to say, he only admits to the former and lets the latter drown in its irrelevance.</p>
<p>He sighs wearily, but his voice is calm when he pushes up from the couch and walks around it. “It’s fine. You could’ve picked a better outfit for the occasion,” he quirks an eyebrow, “but I suppose it’s better than your previous one.”</p>
<p>As if being reminded of it, Dirk takes in said attire. It looks oversized and baggy on the lithe man, but the way John’s wearing it fits uncomfortably well with the background of his home. That observation doesn’t stem from reason, though, so he promptly tucks it away under the mattress.</p>
<p>Still, now his best friend knows without much room for uncertainty that he’s banging her little brother… Which will predictably prompt some jabs about Rose and Roxy in the future. Hell, maybe even Dave will get sucked in. His family really has to start choosing their partners from a longer radius.</p>
<p>“This went better than expected, to be honest, but maybe that’s because she’s too graceful to tear into us in front of the other when we just woke up. Or maybe she understands this doesn't mean anything serious. Still…” The blond crosses his arms, taps his fingers on his arms. Oh, right. “She must have seen your car downstairs.” He bites the inside of his cheek.</p>
<p>Well, at least the first one to have to deal with her isn’t Dirk. Which means…</p>
<p>Dirk looks up at the cowering idiot. He did ask something, so he addresses that first and ignores the previous question. “I’m cool eating anything, as long as it isn’t majorly poisonous.”</p>
<p>He looks away for a moment, then back at John. “What are you thinking of telling her?” He purposely leaves the question vague and open-ended, in hope John will elaborate on other things adjacent to their… fling or whatever’s going on.</p><hr/>
<p>“<em>Something that won’t kill you. </em> Okay, thanks. I bet we can swing a dinner like that.” John huffs through a nervous smirk, without much trace of humor or fun anymore. "Maybe you should aim a little higher, just saying."</p>
<p>He’s still reeling from the last caustic string of words assaulting his mind.</p>
<p>“…I don’t really know what I would say. I basically just. Came out? To my own sister. Out of the blue. So.” His eyes close as he exhales a small breathless laugh.</p>
<p>Words. Actions. Actions and Words. Antagonists almost to the point of irreconcilable. </p>
<p>The blond has come closer, and John’s not really sure why. Does he want to <em> be </em>closer to him? Does he want to stab his words direct and obvious into him so there’s no escape from them?</p>
<p>He looks up at Dirk, directly in the eye, serene but with a certain amount of sadness in his unguarded bright blue eyes. Also, tired. Sort of exhausted, really. As it turns out, he misses the panicked adrenaline after all.</p>
<p>“I guess I would tell her, Dirk, that we… like each other. And that it’s complicated. Nothing more, nothing less, really.” John observes his speckled face with a steely coldness, and in no rush to continue. “…but that’s just me, isn’t it?” He finishes, perhaps slightly sharper than intended.</p>
<p>One more instant of sustained eye-contact, until it becomes… painful to sustain.</p>
<p>“Um. I’m gonna, uh. Go. Change out this, first, and then just go.” He almost planned to ask Dirk to borrow these clothes for the way home, since his crumpled up ones can’t really be very clean, but that seems senseless. He doesn’t really give Dirk an opening to react before he turns back into the bedroom and quickly gathers up his clothes from the floor and under the bed, then he goes into the bathroom to change into last night’s outfit… because that makes sense with a man that’s gazed lavishly at every inch of his naked body.</p>
<p>Oh. Minus the bow tie that’s… missing. Not that it really matters anymore.</p>
<p>John comes out of the bathroom redressed, suspenders hanging down off his hips and shirt half unbuttoned, leaving the clean clothes softly on top of the. Bed. Also, retrieving his glasses from where Dirk stashed them in a fit, in the nightstand. He puts them into his back pocket.</p>
<p>Then he comes out, eyes rather hazy, and the blond’s still… there. Just there. Waiting? The brunette considers him with a quick glance up and down.</p>
<p>“You know, I barely ever know if you mean anything or not, Dirk.” He smirks, but his heart’s not in it, and his eyes are down low. He… hesitates, very briefly. Approaches the blond, by the entrance. Doesn’t look up at his eyes, anymore. Afraid that whatever he sees might be shattering. He merely places… the quickest peck on his cheek. “Ok. See you later, I gotta assume.” </p>
<p>Then, he simply leaves.</p><hr/>
<p>Even to someone as socially distant as Dirk, it’s impossible to miss the encompassing dejection starting to cloud up John’s expression. It drips from his words and the blond grits his teeth from how little he feels from that.</p>
<p>He might have to admit he is indeed giving all the wrong signals… whichever those are.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, Dirk also doesn’t find it in himself to deny John’s assumption.</p>
<p>And then the man leaves.</p>
<p>For someone whose mind never stops racing, that sure was one shitty fucking delay. He’s not even sure what kind of face he’d been making while John kissed him goodbye and walked out, though the Strider has a vague feeling that he replied with some half-assed 'see you' or something. Dirk stares at the closed door as if that would provide any answers.</p>
<p>It does, to some extent. He locks it, walks to his bedroom, opens a drawer and retrieves a navy blue rubber ball before plopping down on his desk chair. He should eat something, but hunger is the last thing he’s feeling at the moment.</p>
<p>The blond looks up at the ceiling with a deep sigh, squishing the ball in his hand with his legs crossed up on the corner of the desk. Maybe he should cop out tonight. The way things are, it’ll just be awkward. He doesn’t want to ruin their birthday.</p>
<p>See, this is exactly why letting your instinct run wild is bad. Now his mind has to pick up the slack and sweep away the trail of destruction his whims have left behind. Especially in this case, when the main victim is related to someone he cares about.</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘You know, I barely ever know if you mean anything or not, Dirk.’ </em>
</p>
<p>He doesn’t, either, sometimes. Sometimes you just tell yourself something until it becomes true. Sometimes that’s enough for you to sleep at night.</p>
<p>But sometimes, it doesn’t <em> have </em> to mean anything. There’s nothing wrong with that. Yeah, everything means <em> something</em>, as in everything represents something to someone, but it doesn’t have to be significant.</p>
<p>It makes perfect sense to him, crystal clear equivalence. Not to John, though, apparently.</p>
<p>The thing is, regrettably, Dirk doesn’t dislike John. He’s a specific brand of awkward and insufferable, different from his own but surprisingly compatible. There’s nothing keeping him from getting to know the man better, either.</p>
<p>However, from what Dirk gathers, John wants more from him. More than he has, more than Dirk is willing to give. Squeezing the ball becomes too ineffective, so the blond experimentally shoots it at the floor near the corner of the room.</p>
<p>He starts rhythmically tossing the rubber ball in a straight trajectory that triangulates between his hand, the floor and the wall to give a tempo for his thoughts. His neighbors hate it. That’s fine, he’s aiming for that loud noise fine at the end of the month, just so he has a chance to ask the building manager what’s the favorite design for the My Little Pony panties he’s been looking up on the laughable anonymous tab on Gooble. Though that sounded more amusing a few weeks ago.</p>
<p>Alright, let’s be efficient here. Dirk’s a busy man, shit needs doing. Shit needs to be done so hard it can barely walk. It’s going to need a walking cane by the time he’s done with it. He’s going to think about this for only fifteen more minutes and the conclusion he reaches will be it.</p>
<p>He dwells on it for seventeen and a half.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double update! Enjoy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> What a riot, those two silly men</em>, Jane muses to herself as she clicks the door closed inside her car. The driver pulls off and she takes a moment to ponder the new development by looking out the window.</p><p>It sure is a surprise, though! Of course she’s had her share of speculation regarding John’s romantic life after he didn’t seem interested in pursuing anything since the break-up with Rose. She even got to the hypothesis that he hadn’t gotten over her, but her brother is nothing if transparent, so, if that was indeed the case, she’d know.</p><p>The fact that she’s found out about that from catching a glimpse of his unmentionables on the floor of her best friend’s bedroom is even more riveting. She wouldn’t exactly pin John and Dirk together if inquired about it, but if it works, it works, right?</p><p>Still, embarrassment aside (and seeing Dirk flustered is an absolute treat), did they by chance think she’d disapprove? Jane knows them both too well to know they’re good people, and she can’t possibly think less of John for his sexuality, just as she didn’t with Dirk himself. Perhaps she should make that abundantly clear to John before he cooks up a storm in his mind.</p><p>The woman pulls out her cellphone and blinks in surprise to know her brother beat her to it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- ectoBiologist has begun messaging gutsyGumshoe --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: hey, jane.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: let me take care of things tonight?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: it's the least i can do.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i cook, you bake?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i'm gonna shop on the way, too. i have the car.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i'll see you at home, ok?</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: ...</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: hey, janey.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: i love you.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: and i need you to know.</span><br/>
<span class="john">EB: thank you. &lt;3</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- ectoBiologist has ceased messaging gutsyGumshoe --</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>She smiles warmly before typing a quick response.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has started messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Of course, dear. If that’s what you’d prefer.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: Tell me what you’d like for dessert and I’ll send you the list for the ingredients, is that alright?</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I should be back around four p.m.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: You have nothing to thank me for, John. I love you too, and nothing will ever change that. This most certainly doesn’t.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: And I want to underline that although I’m curious to know more, I won’t press you for answers. :B</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: I’ll see you later. Please take care.</span><br/>
<span class="jane">GG: … &lt;3</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>John comes through the threshold of Jane’s modest-yet-fancy little duplex, precariously balancing various bags of groceries in his arms, all of them wobbling as he kicks the door closed behind him. They all make it through the open-plan living area and onto the sleek kitchen counter, miraculously and without any catastrophic ingredient avalanches. Today, he'll take whatever little victory he can get. </p><p>Huffing tiredly, he takes a quick look around for signs of Jane, but everything’s quiet and in order like it usually is around here. It’s not like he expected her to be home so soon anyway, she’s a busy lady after all. He glances about, in case there’s some housework he can help with before she arrives, taking in the modern and glossy, yet colorful and homey surroundings. She has a pretty cool place, there's no denying that, but he’ll never feel like he fully belongs in these high-end surroundings. But what else is new lately.</p><p>The brunette ignores the paper bags momentarily in favor of leaning over the counter to start a mental menu plan with the aid of his phone, before he gets sidetracked by finally seeing Jane’s messages, which make him smile fondly, with warm eyes. He really needs to remember to record that piano composition for her to listen to whenever she likes. Dave can probably help with that. Or, he could get it on vinyl for her, because there’s no doubt she’d appreciate a good old-timey record. Man, he should have one of those mini vinyl record cutting machines. Maybe he’ll get himself one for his birthday, that’d be a fun little tool. Hell yeah. Best birthday gift ever. And he gets to use it to make everyone happy.</p><p>…hopefully.</p><p>Anyway, Earth to Egbert, there’s dinner afoot.</p><p>…</p><p>Start with baked Camembert <em> en croûte</em>. Then, Shrimp Fra Diavolo: spicy seafood and pasta, perfect. And finish with seared peppered steaks, plus veggies. And of course, he got Jane the ingredients for one of her signature chocolate cakes. That should do. He’s actually pretty fucking hungry, let’s hope half those ingredients don’t mysteriously disappear on the way. He hasn’t eaten at all yet, not since… last night.</p><p>John sighs morosely. He’s not sure about today’s collection of events. If he overreacted, underreacted, correctly-fucking-reacted, or what the hell. It’s… draining.</p><p>His first instinct is, of course, to <em> whatever </em> it and start working, but… <em> He can’t keep denying shit, </em> he’s getting that monkey off his back and karate-kicking it directly into the sun. No more of that bullshit. It’s so fucking unhealthy. Even if he has never been more terrified in his life.</p><p>…he’s gonna get his heart broken, isn’t he.</p><p>One more sigh later, he's halfway through pouring himself a glass of white wine, and promising mentally not to down it in one gulp. </p><p>And that’s when Jane comes in through the front door.</p>
<hr/><p>After an emergency meeting with some men who didn't seem to register that Jane knew what a flowchart was and could tell at a glance what process it represented (and therefore did not need further explanation), the woman feels drained. Maybe it's because it's Saturday. Maybe because she made the best of her party yesterday. Maybe because she has another one tonight, even if of a smaller scale.</p><p>Still, the Crocker heiress is buzzing with excitement as she parks the car, having dismissed the company driver for today, and walks into her house. She drops her purse on the couch and walks up to him. "Hey, sweetie," she kisses his cheek briefly, leaning on the counter with a sigh. "Gosh, that sure was a drag. And word has it that it only gets busier!" She laughs tiredly. "Might as well seize what time I have left now, right?"</p><p>Then, Jane looks down and arches an eyebrow. "Hoho, Inaugurating the drains, I see." She winces and inspects her feet, then looks back up at him, aqua green meeting ocean blue. "Would you pour over out for me too, dear? I'll be right down with you, I just need to change out of these caging vestss."</p><p>The sister leaves him to it, tapping her heels all the way upstairs and changing into some comfy shorts and a loose blouse. Feels almost weird to dress so casually, but now she finally feels like she's home. After slipping on some cushioned flip flops, she walks back down the stairs and joins John in the kitchen again, grabbing her glass.</p><p>"So," she starts, without any intention to hide the destination of her sentence, "how was your day?"</p>
<hr/><p>Jane is greeted by a full-blown toothy grin, and a brief hug to counter her kiss. “I have no idea how you put up with all this business mumbo-jumbo on a daily basis, Janey. I admire it, but don’t ever wanna do it again.” John chuckles as he grabs another glass and pours some more Chardonnay for her, while she prances upstairs to get comfortable.</p><p>Nervousness is still buzzing through his body, not really from any of his sister’s reactions, obviously, but over the kind of questions he knows she’s gonna have, and for which he’s not sure he’s gonna have any answers whatsoever. <em> Probably not, </em> bitches the mean voice in his head, ineffectively drowned by his hands slapping berries, nuts and a sweet drizzle on the small wheel of cheese he’s already halfway through wrapping in puff pastry.</p><p>As she comes back in her breezy loungewear, her glass of wine is ready for her at the counter, plus some of the leftover nuts mixed into a bowl, which he slides over to her, after grabbing a handful for himself and navigating it clumsily under his overbite, anxious to get some food into him for the first time today, and definitely not stress-eating at all. No way. </p><p>“My day?” Right in the solar plexus with a baseball bat. That’s Jane. <em> And also John, </em> even though he’s not very aware of it. “My day was pretty fucking weird” he snorts, managing to fluster and turn pink only the tiniest bit. “My wakeup was fucking weird,” <em> quite wonderful until it wasn’t </em> “and then my sister waltzed in unexpectedl- oh god, I’m not upset, don’t get me wrong. It was just a pretty gigantic shock!” he chortles with embarrassment but also amusement. Jane’s face also reflects what she would call <em> lark</em>. At least they can laugh about it.</p><p>John stops torturing the Camembert for a second and wipes his hands. “Ultimately I’m… kinda glad you came in the middle of it. Because,” he rubs the back of his neck in one of his trademark dorky gestures, “I wanted to… I wanted you to know. I just hadn’t gotten to that part yet, Janey. But I did want you to know.” He smiles looking warmly into her aqua eyes, and gives her a proper, extended loving hug.</p><p>Then he realizes with delay what just came out of his mouth, and his eyes widen like dinner plates, his body drawing back to explain frantically.</p><p>“I- I mean I wanted you to know… about me, not us! Wait not us, that’s not even-- oh boy.” He looks away and chugs some of his wine hurriedly, <em> European courage </em> or whatever, stopping right before he drains the whole glass. It doesn’t count if there’s like five drops left, you know.</p><p>Then he grabs the bottle off the dark stone countertop to pour himself some more.</p><p>“It’s complicated,” he ends up with, even though he was pointedly trying to avoid <em> actually using that expression tonight, </em> as he had decided, but what are you gonna do. Lots of things going the opposite way that they should, today. Might as well make peace with it.</p><p>“I think we’re just kind of. Friends, Jane.” He stumbles with a smirk and a small frown, pretending not to know that his sister can read him like a book. And failing to prevent or even notice a deep sigh coming all the way from his chest. Looking down sort of bashfully, he plays with the stem of the wine glass he’s holding.</p><p>“Can I please ask you a question too?” He swallows, then finally lifts his gaze back up to his sister. “What’s he really like, Jane?”</p>
<hr/><p>This is one of the things Jane finds endearing about her brother: while most people require some pushing and prodding, all she has to do with John is give him a nudge and he’ll roll down the hill himself. She merely asked about his day, but he already sank neck-deep into the touchy subject.</p><p>She holds the glass elegantly in one hand as she leans sideways on the counter, sipping quietly. The dessert is her responsibility, but she’ll allow herself a little rest and gossip before getting to it. And grab some nuts as a snack.</p><p>Her smile widens into a grin as he starts talking, his expression open and bright. A much better complexion than a few weeks back, for sure.</p><p>Jane’s mind backtracks and she raises a teasing eyebrow at a fragment of John’s report. She came ‘in the middle of <em> it’</em>? Oh my, the poorest time indeed, then.</p><p>It’s lost in a deep-rooted hug, though. The elder sister silently thanks him for trusting her for this. The very next moment, however, John is back to sputtering chaotically, which makes her widen her eyes and giggle before taking another gulp of her glass.</p><p>Hearing him run over himself when talking about her best friend is adorable, but her face falls slightly when she notices the melancholic undertone of her brother’s words. He asks her and she nods invitingly.</p><p>The woman slaps her free hand on her cheek and sighs, looking down to nowhere in particular. “Heavens, Johnny, that’s such a broad question.” She chuckles, glancing back up at him with a sympathetic smile. “I can fathom why you could be exasperated enough to ask me that, though. That Strider can be really stubborn.”</p><p>“If I’m being ruthlessly sincere as his friend… Dirk is quite the bastard, actually,” Jane snorts fondly. “He’s not the most approachable or straightforward chap on Earth…” Some past memories of his scowling face and the surrounding situations flash through her mind as she glances down at the liquid sloshing around her glass. “But he’s not a foul-hearted person, and is really reliable for whatever you need him for. That’s a trait of his which I think could be easily exploited, even.”</p><p>John’s words didn’t inspire much conviction about his own feelings on the matter. A sudden wave of guilt washes over her. Perhaps she has jumped the trigger on calling them out, assumed far too much. Misjudged the kind of relationship they have. How careless and irresponsible of her.</p><p>However, something else is bothering her. After chewing on the inside of her cheek for a few moments, Jane looks up again, a mildly concerned look on her face. “John, my dear… I know you both very well. I know how… <em> complicated </em>Dirk can be, and it would genuinely break my heart to be forced to take sides, but I must know.”</p><p>She takes a step forward and puts a hand on the side of his arm, just a comforting touch.</p><p>“Are you happy with this?”</p>
<hr/><p>There’s a thoughtful silence after Jane’s last words, during which John stares at her with a deadly serious expression for an instant, puts his glass back down on the counter, and grabs her hand off his arm, to cradle it in between his hands in turn.</p><p>“Listen to me, Jane. I appreciate… well everything you’ve done and still do for me, no question, but… no. You’re not gonna have to take sides, I really fucking insist you don’t, actually, this is not your… problem? And I don’t care how fucked up things get, that’s not a decision you’re gonna have to make.</p><p><em> That was less than reassuring, </em> he muses, and starts to not so slowly unravel, talking more and more frenetically, gesticulating wildly and looking at the floor, fearing if he keeps looking at his sister he won’t have the strength to approach the topic.</p><p>“We- I- oof. It’s been confusing to say the least, Janey. I-<em> of course I like him, </em> he’s pretty fucking great and,” he laughs rather tensely, coming close to <em> hysterical</em>, “I think he does, too?! I mean, I think first he hated me, then he kind of confusedly liked and hated me, and now… I think he kinda likes me back?! But maybe not really?? No, I don’t know, I have no idea, because who the fuck knows anymore. So yeah, great, but also infuriating.”</p><p>The frantic brunette shoots a look up at his sister, wide-eyed in sudden horror of how much he’s spilling. “Oh, god, Jane I…” he stutters as he pinches his nose. “Fuck, I can’t involve you like this, it’s so damn… I know I have your support, I really do, but that should be it, I would never come between you guys. I know how much you love each other, that’d make me want to shoot myself, I swear I… I can’t do that to you."</p><p>"If… if you want to talk to him, because I know you were gonna do that regardless, do, but not because of something I said right now, because…” he huffs in frustration. “That’d probably just complicate things? And we have no right to involve you in our stupid bullshit, Jane, we don’t, you don’t deserve the drama.”</p><p>Whistling air in and out slowly, John manages to partially regain his breath.</p><p>“You know what would be easier?” He lifts his palms up to shoulder level in a hopelessness signifying gesture. “I wish he’d just <em> reject me.</em>” John lets his arms drop in defeat and closes his eyes, breathing heavily. “At least that would be clear.”</p><p>...</p><p>“I… I’ll be fine. It’s gonna be fine,” he articulates in his least convincing tone ever, praying to every single god he doesn’t believe in to at least partially reassure her that he’s not gonna have another full meltdown.</p><p>“I think… maybe I oughta just. Take a step back for a while. Yeah. That’d be best,” he sighs, resigned, as he looks away in the distance with uncertainty.</p>
<hr/><p>As the woman hears her brother’s increasingly frantic stuttering, her heart sinks. It does seem ‘complicated’ indeed.</p><p>She can see why, however. John is too reticent to slap Dirk into good sense and Dirk is… well, Dirk.</p><p>What John is describing is the Strider’s trademark bullcrap. It’s the effect he carefully crafts to present to other people. Jane has been on the backstage of that stoic façade far too many times to mistake it for genuine disinterest.</p><p>Still, she can’t possibly assume her friend’s feelings, even if the undeniable blush on his face earlier today is probably a good sign.</p><p>“Of course, dear. I promise I won’t meddle <em> too </em>much,” she smiles feebly. “Despite seeing you as my baby brother likely for all of eternity, I know you are an adult. I trust you to make your own decisions.”</p><p>She ponders for a second, clinking her nails on the glass thoughtfully. “If you’ll allow me, though, I think you should try speaking to Dirk more casually about this.” It feels like she’s stepping into prodding territory, but maybe this isn’t something that’s clear to everyone who interacts with her tightly winded friend. “You shouldn’t let yourself be intimidated by him, you know. I recall telling you this before, he’s softer than he looks.” </p><p>Jane feels tempted to tell him about Roxy’s gift he kept ‘ironically’ in his closet. Dirk would probably butcher her, though.</p><p>Instead, she finishes with some reassurance. “I believe you will figure this out. Should you need to vent, however, your words have a free pass to my ears.”</p><p>Smiling comfortingly, Jane finishes her wine and sets down the glass before going over to the sink to wash her hands. It’s time to get to work.</p><p>Unless… She looks back at John, head tilted, but without judgement. “Would you prefer we called off today’s dinner? It can be just the two of us, I’m sure Dirk wouldn’t object to rescheduling something for me and him to do together.”</p>
<hr/><p>Thinking of everything the two men have been through together, John snorts, amused. He wonders if his sister would change her tune a bit if she knew some of the details. Although, ok, wow, no, he desperately hopes she never finds out about some specific points, actually. Still, has she ever seen that furious side of Dirk in full effect? …there’s no good answer to that question, is there.</p><p>“He <em> is </em>intimidating,” he simply muses, with a light chuckle, “but I get what you mean. I’ll do my best, even if it feels… almost impossible to find a crack to get through, most of the time.” Feeling himself start blushing again, he rubs the palms of his hands against his hot face. Ok, maybe that’s enough gossiping with his sister about emotional turmoil with his gay crush. And that’s a series of words that he’s still not even close to being fully adapted to, so a little more than enough, even.</p><p>“And… stop worrying, please. I know I’ve been a depressed withholding asshole brat for a while now, but... I know you got me. I appreciate your advice and… you know,” again, he starts rubbing the back of his neck in a fluster. “All that good brother and sister shit I’ve been neglecting, Janey. Please don’t be afraid to talk to me.” He dedicates her a fond toothy grin, even if it’s weighed down by a more generally guilty facial expression.</p><p>John ponders her sister’s question for a total of three seconds, before deciding that, <em> no, there’s no way he’s just shrinking away from this and letting it steamroll him.  </em></p><p>“Nah, let’s do it! It’ll be nice. And… I would kind of like to clear the air, you know. We’ll just… relax, have some wine, eat way too much… tell a bunch of embarrassing childhood stories, quite possibly, you have my blessing,” he chortles. “I mean, maybe not the salamander softie one, everything else is fair game. It’ll be nice, low-key, I promise,” he assures her, with only the slightest tinge of worry in his voice. “Let’s make this dinner our bitch, okay? I’m making some of our favorites.”</p><p>Jane starts fiddling with some of her unholy baking business ingredients for the cake, John gives the Camembert puff pastry <em> decoration </em>the old college try. He should really let Jane deal with this detail-oriented stuff, but she’s busy, so he does his best. When he’s finished with the crust, the puff pastry flourish on top looks like some kind of approximate shape, probably. A flower? A firework bursting? A ripe tomato that fell vertically from a 20th floor balcony onto the sidewalk? All viable options, but whatever, it’ll still be tasty, he muses as he braces himself on the counter on his arms, staring down at it with an unfocused gaze, pensively. Still with a little spine on the back of his mind. Chewing on the inside of his cheek. </p><p>“One more thing, Jane. I um. I’m sorry I bailed on your party a little early, last night. It was… I don’t know. He has like the stupidest stranglehold on me.” John bites his bottom lip in self-punishment for that TMI spill. “I should have been there for you. I’m glad you had a fun night, at least” he beams at her.</p><p>John's face drops back down as he resolves to try and make better choices, and stick by the ones that actually care for him, like you should, after all.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the afternoon passes surprisingly quick, messing up the kitchen together, then picking up after themselves with some minor friendly splashing, gossiping and joking lightly the whole time, even the riveting arc of Jane’s squealing getaway, while her brother chases her around with a raw shrimp. Also, boiling pasta, prepping up veggies, marinating steak and leaving all the condiments ready, just for the last minute touches. Not to mention how mouthwatering that chocolate cake made the whole house smell, dammit.</p><p>“Ok, um. Cake cooling, cheese ready to bake closer to dinnertime, everything else ready and waiting,” he runs through his mental list aloud. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower and change, so I can look things over while you take your time freshening up and getting ready yourself.” John kisses his sister lightly on the cheek with a <em> be right back </em> and bolts to the downstairs bathroom, by the guest bedroom.</p><p>With a tired sigh, John disrobes, turns the faucet on to run the water, letting it heat… leaves his glasses on the sink counter without lifting his eyes up. Steps into the ample shower and under the warm spray, hissing. Too hot. Or maybe his body just hurts in general, not that he’s been trying to ignore that fact all day, with every step. </p><p>
  <em> Try not to think. </em>
</p><p>Casually soaping his body up, mindless and relaxed, soon comes to an abrupt stop when he makes the mistake of looking down. To all those marks. All over him.</p><p>There’s a particularly obvious one in the approximate center of his chest. A deep suck bruise, teeth imprint around it and all. The most confusing knot sets in John’s stomach.</p><p>…he can’t believe it’s as fresh as this morning’s. The brunette rests his weary forehead against the cooling tiles on the wall with his eyes closed.</p><p>The rest of the shower transpires uneventfully, inconspicuously, untroubled, the water temperature turned down to a body and soul refreshing iciness.</p>
<hr/><p>Even if not entirely convinced, Jane decides to see how things play out on their own. Before moving on, though, she does give him a big tight bear hug once more. “Of course. And there is nothing to apologize for! Yesterday was an office celebration. There weren’t many breaks to tittle-tattle as we’re doing today. No reason to pull your hairs over that. You seem to have enough of that already.”</p><p>With a knowing look, she gets to rounding up the ingredients and mixing them in a bowl. Soon enough, they’re at full steam, mixing, kneading, filling, gossiping, baking, cooking, frying.</p><p>A few months ago, Jane felt as if her house didn’t really belong to her. Like she just… slept and stored her things there. Now, as laughter and sizzling fills the kitchen, she actually feels… home. At some point, tears well up in her eyes, but she blinks them away before they fall into the batter.</p><p>She will have time to show John how delightful his company is later. It’s their birthday, after all. Amidst the hurried schedule, she even managed to get him a little something. The woman smirks to herself in impish excitement, a few upper teeth poking out from her mouth. A genetic trademark look, if you will.</p><p>When John announces he’s going to shower, Jane nods her encouragement and finishes the frosting before shoving it into the fridge to be added later. While the water’s running in the bathroom, she tidies up the kitchen and puts aside the dishes for tonight. It’s not a coincidence that she’s friends with a control freak.</p><p>The door opens after a few minutes to a brunette with his hair still dripping wet. Jane nags him to wet it properly so as to not get a cold before setting down the dish cloth and skipping upstairs to get ready.</p><p> </p><p>Work has never been so fucking ungratifying.</p><p>There have been pointless, dumb or overly simple projects before that made Dirk ponder whether his job is actually even taken seriously. The engineering and building prototypes one, not the commissions. Let’s not go there.</p><p>The thing is, the problem wasn’t the result – it was the painstaking <em> process</em>. Usually, when he gets in the zone, Dirk is able to tune out everything else to focus on the system or code he’s tweaking into submission. Today, however, his mind seemed to latch onto any thought passing by, making any task unbelievably difficult.</p><p>His frustration, of course, added to the pile of impatience and made him too riled up to continue.</p><p>It didn’t help that he had to leave for a potentially straining appointment a few hours later. At some point, the blond gave up and slammed the bathroom door shut to take a fucking shower and get ready to leave.</p><p>Time flies as he chooses his outfit for the evening. Knowing Jane, she’s probably going for something chic to some degree. Dirk decides to go with his gut and rock the biker look. He is indeed taking his girl, after all.</p><p>After shrugging on some fitting leather pants and a V-necked dark shirt, he slips on his gloves and jacket, grabs his key and helmet and leaves, locking the door behind himself before going down to the garage.</p><p>He stops by the liquor store to grab a label of wine he knows Jane enjoys. It’s John’s birthday, also, but he has no clue about his taste. Given his previous drink choices, though, Dirk would take a guess at white wine.</p><p>In the end, he gets one of each. If nothing else, that’s John’s birthday gift from him, then. Fuck it. He also briefly considers bringing something else to eat, too, but remembers who he’s dealing with and shuts down that line of thought.</p><p>At the cashier, something catches his eye over the counter. It’s the lamest thing he’s ever seen.</p><p>…</p><p>He pays for his stuff and leaves for Jane’s house.</p><p>When he arrives, he parks <em> Cóiste Bodhar </em> on the driveway. He’ll ask Jane what to do with her later. His pulse is racing when he walks up to the front door, helmet in one hand, plastic bag in the other, and knocks.</p><p>He hopes with all of his will that it’s not John behind it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double update! Enjoy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shower is over, even if it feels like it took twice as long as it should have. Huh. Anyway. John drapes a towel loosely around his hips and comes out towards the adjacent bedroom, kind of carelessly dripping water everywhere. On the stool, at the foot of the bed, he glances down at the outfit he’s chosen for the night. Um, the clothes, he’s gonna. Wear.</p>
<p>…whatever. He slips into some clean white undies, dark jeans… a navy blue tee? He has plenty of brighter blue ones, because of fucking course he does, but… it feels like a dark clothes kinda day. Plus, it’s tight-fitting, so it won’t flap around and get messed up while he’s finishing any cooking. Ok, choice reconfirmed. He finishes up with a black leather cuff bracelet his sister got him last year, it’s cool and he hasn’t used it much, might as well pay homage to it today, and dark lace up boots. He hasn’t worn those in a while, either, but he’s not up for bright sneakers. God, is he getting old already, at age 21? Shit.</p>
<p>Taking one last quick look on the full-body mirror, towel still around his neck, just enough to verify he doesn’t look like he’s cosplaying some fake punk-rock poser twink from a k-pop band, he nods. Good enough, he shucks the damp towel over the bedside chair, and gets going.</p>
<p>Coming out to the living area, John chuckles at his sister’s scolding of his wet hair, like he’s gonna catch a cold in Houston in April at 7pm. He guesses she might still be a Washingtonian at heart, even if he doesn’t even remember moving himself, they were so young. Or maybe it’s that she’s taken to adorably baby him. Either way, sweet and making him smile. Just like the kind of things he needs in his life.</p>
<p>John scrubs his hair dry with one of the dish towels, not bothering to go all the way back down the hallway and into the bathroom. He’ll replace it with a dry one in a minute, whatever. Then he moves just a few steps to finger-comb his hair in front of the mirror by the stairwell. That’ll be fine, bed hair is his default go-to anyway. </p>
<p>Who even has so many mirrors hanging around everywhere? Ok yeah, a power woman that needs to look spotless for all her corporate appearances and whatnot, he guesses with a snort. God, they’re different. John hates mirrors. When has anything good happened in front of a mirror.</p>
<p>…that might not be the most rational thought in the world, but. It’s weird. Sometimes when he needs to check himself up in a mirror, he gets the eerie feeling that he might not be reflected back when he looks. Fucking creepy. Whatever, it’s the dumbest idea ever conceived. He discards it like some kind of nonsensical brainfart reference, and makes a mental note to buy the same soap and shampoo Jane has in the downstairs bathroom for his own place, because he smells like a fucking delicious grapefruit. It was from The Booty Shop he thinks.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>John also pulls the boat neck of his t-shirt nervously around, trying to get that somewhat conspicuous bruise over his collarbone out of sight. With... reasonable, moderate success. It might peek out. Maybe. Oof. Okay, it is what it is, now.</p>
<p>John barely has time to do a walk around the kitchen, check that everything is perfectly ready for the oven and grill whenever they want, take a tray with the meat through the kitchen’s glass door out to the side patio, and light up a charcoal snake on the barbecue, leaving it almost closed so the coal heats nice and slow until cooking time. He’s left the steaks, properly covered, on the little marble table Jane has there, together with a couple chairs to enjoy her early morning fresh air breakfast. He’ll be barbecuing it soon enough, Dirk must be about to arrive, anyway. Where’s Jane, is she still getting dressed? John desperately wishes for her to hurry and not leave him alone downstairs much longe-there it is.</p>
<p>Like a magic spell, he summons a firm knock on the front door. Sounds about right.</p>
<p>
  <em> Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. </em>
</p>
<p>John timidly opens the door to find himself right in front of the hottest-looking, blond ride-or-die biker style bitch. Fucking hell. It’s ridiculous, how the brunette can be fully expecting him, and still never be completely ready to come face to face with the Strider. Seriously, fucking hell. He does his best to steady his breath. And pulse.</p>
<p>“Hey, Dirk.” John leans his shoulder against the doorframe and smiles at him, a bit shy, but warm and earnest.</p><hr/>
<p>The door opens to reveal John. Goddammit. Can't have shit in Houston.</p>
<p>"Hey," Dirk replies immediately, voice neutral and expression relaxed until he looks down and takes John's looks in.</p>
<p>Fucking hell.</p>
<p>Disturbingly enough, John looks much younger with this fresh outfit. Not as tired and stressed, maybe, and not as nerdy. Dirk doesn't mind geeky at all, but jesus christ is this style doing things to him.</p>
<p>It catches him completely off guard, and he stares for a second too long before finally looking away. Thank fuck for his glasses.</p>
<p>Ok, now what. Should he kiss him? Dirk's pretty sure he had a plan somewhere around his mind before it was blown into a zillion pieces by John's allure.</p>
<p>The awkwardness in the air decides for him, though. The blond has missed his chance. He looks down at his hands. "Uh, can I come in?"</p>
<p>As John moves aside and Dirk steps in, a myriad of smells fill his nostrils. First, the man's smell, mixed in with his perfume, urges him to lean in and breathe in at his neck. He refrains, of course, choosing instead to set down his helmet near the entrance and look around.</p>
<p>The second overpowering smell comes from the kitchen. A mix of chocolate and baked goods, plus stuff fried in oil. His mouth waters and Dirk realizes he hasn't eaten anything since his sad Cup Noodles at 'lunch'.</p>
<p>"Damn, it smells amazing in here. Though that's what you'd expect of the heiress of Crocker Corp, I suppose." He comments, eyes scanning the walls. Despite being here countless times, he feels oddly out of place.</p>
<p>Dirk turns to John again. "I brought the wine, as per categorical instructions." He takes the bottles out of the plastic bag. "Should I refrigerate it?"</p><hr/>
<p>Staring at Dirk Strider, no matter how ready you think you are, John muses, is like staring into the midday desert sun. Blinding, searing, and there’s no way it’s not gonna weaken a mere man substantially. It doesn’t help that Dirk stares back at him for a little too long.</p>
<p>Jane’s words, his own raised grievances, Dirk’s voice last night, this morning, his breathing, that ring in his ears, they all combine into a hellish cyclone cacophony inside John’s head, reverberating inside his skull with countless thoughts and noises, and drowning out whatever resolve or plan there might have been clear in his mind, with <em> alarming efficiency</em>. And it’s only been a couple of seconds since he answered the door. </p>
<p>“Come on in.”</p>
<p>Stepping back to let Dirk through, he already feels too close to the <em> main event </em>, seeing as how the older man looks like a gay cyberpunk wet fucking dream. Oh, god. Don’t stare at that leather-clad ass.</p>
<p>Oh, good, the wine will distract him. Wine cures everything, covers all sins. “Oh cool, thanks. I like white.” He reaches over and takes one of the bottles, pointedly ignoring their fingers grazing at its neck. “I’d like to put it on ice, honestly. Better just this one though, if Jane finds her beloved Merlot in the fridge this night might come to a tragically quick and crude end. Also, bloody” he snorts amused, finally shooting his blue gaze back up at the blond, then gesturing with his head for him to follow into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“You can just leave the red on the counter” John murmurs as he goes around the kitchen island to stick the white wine in the fridge, rigid, still intimidated by their quiet and intimate proximity, wishing he had at least turned on some music in advance. But suddenly he remembers he has an ally, neutral party, moderator, buffer- whatever. “Jaaane! Dirk is here!” he’s not sure how long she’ll be, because he knows his sister too well to even consider she’s gonna run down the stairs disheveled and unkempt, but he hopes she’ll at least catch the drift and try to hurry on back, for their sake, and saving them from the terrifying pit of awkwardness already swirling and concentrating in the fashionable living area, threatening to achieve critical mass.</p>
<p>To steady, he reminds himself of his only goal tonight. Have a pleasant, incident-free evening, and celebrate a low-key birthday with his sister and… friend.</p>
<p>Um. Oof. Say something?</p>
<p><em> Oh</em>.</p>
<p>“The amazing chocolate smell you can definitely blame on Jane. You know she’s the baker. I did the cooking, on the other hand.” Speaking of which, he rubs that hand over the back of his nape, feeling himself fluster slightly. “I didn’t really want her to come home after a whole <em> Saturday </em> of work and whatnot and start making a ten-course dinner, so I got this one.” His eyes wander from the counter to Dirk, who listens with an attentive expression. Is he… looking at John’s li-”um. So there’s some nice meat. And uh. I hope… as a Texan, I hope you’re not opposed to… spicy.”</p>
<p>They share a silent look so thick you could cut through it with a sword, for a few moments, until Jane’s shoes can be heard click-clacking down the stairs and break the spell.</p><hr/>
<p><em> Knew it. </em> Dirk smirks to himself at the right choice of wine. Figures.</p>
<p>The blond follows John into the kitchen. “That would be an interesting motive to fill in with on the murder report.” He does as told and sets the bottle on the counter.</p>
<p>However, the longer he spends alone with John, the more he feels that gooey awkwardness engulfing the room. Goddammit, he’s a grown man, he shouldn’t be affected by stuff like this.</p>
<p>He opens his mouth to say something, but John interrupts him with a loud call for his sister and he closes it back again. Alright then, no small talk.</p>
<p>Dirk hooks his thumbs in his pants’ pockets, fixating his gaze on a painting on the wall. Then, the brunette’s voice pipes up again.</p>
<p>“You cooked?” He raises his eyebrows. “Huh. I’m intrigued.”</p>
<p><em> ‘As a Texan’</em>? But never mind that, <em> spicy</em>?</p>
<p>John’s last sentence imbues a whole new level of tension into their discomfort, stretching out for several seconds as they just stare at each other. <em> Now is definitely not the time to think of double entendre, Strider, </em> he chides himself, silently thanking his shades once more. This shit is the most useful accessory ever, no matter what other people might have to say about them. Dave gets it.</p>
<p>“I can do spicy meat,” he ends up replying, before looking at the approaching hostess.</p>
<p>As expected, Jane didn’t take the evening attire lightly. She’s wearing a sharp-cut, form-fitting, deep-colored dress of knee-length. Her perfectionism shows even in casual settings as these, in which her short hair spikes only at places she intends the locks to curl. There’s not a smear on her makeup and her lipstick matches the tone of her sheath dress. Impeccable, as always.</p>
<p>Dirk smiles as she clacks over to them. “Dressed to the nines.”</p>
<p>She gives him a fleeting hug before drawing back to look him over and raise an eyebrow. The woman briefly glances at John before locking gazes with the blond again. “Seems I’m not the only one.”</p>
<p>Jane has the cutting edge talent of knowing exactly how to get to him in a way only the two of them know. It’s an art she has founded and mastered. Dirk looks away with a snort. This just confirms Jane will ambush him later.</p>
<p>“I hope you’ve worked up an appetite, Dirk. I’m rather peckish, myself.” Jane goes around him to gently place her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “John has prepared some delicious concoctions for us today, I would hate to fail to do the meal justice.” Her smile is innocent, but he fears her wink might not be.</p>
<p>The blond shoves his hands in his jacket’s pockets, fiddling with the items inside. “Can’t insult the cooks on their birthday.”</p>
<p>Jane smiles in agreement, then furrows her eyebrows at what he assumes it’s his eyewear. When she’s with her, he usually takes them off, but today he’d rather stick to them. She doesn’t argue, just sighs and scuttles over to the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Ah, red, lovely!” She inspects the bottle on the counter, then turns to John. “Oh, dear, you fancy white better, right? I have one in the cellar, would you prefer that one?”</p><hr/>
<p>The words <em> spicy meat </em> ring loudly inside the brunette’s head for a couple seconds until Jane makes her delightfully sobering entrance and puts him out of his misery. </p>
<p>John watches in quiet amusement as his sister, manicured hand lovingly on his shoulder, throws jabs across the room at the blond, John has no doubt about it whatsoever. Whatever she may or may not be hinting at, he forcefully represses a snort at the snarky interaction, to simply squeeze her hand in appreciation of her kind words, and smile.</p>
<p>“We should jumpstart then, yeah? I can’t wait, I’ve been starving since last night-” he chants mindlessly, turning around to get the finishing touches done in the kitchen. Hm. You know what? “Jane, I’m borrowing your actual 50s housewife frilly ass apron, I don’t wanna get my clothes gross.” He grabs the lacy, polka-dotted, poofy piece of protective clothing from the hook on the wall and ties it over himself. Hey, better than sporting a bunch of grease stains all night, he thinks with stubborn confidence as he grabs some tools. </p>
<p>“Actually, Jane, Dirk brought over some nice <em> Sauvignon blanc</em>.” John exaggerates his terrible French accent in one of his favorite, most dumbest social setting games ever. “I put it in the fridge, like a savage. I know you do it like the Mediterranean wine gods intended all along, but I like it cold, heathen style.” The brunette rapidly sets up some ingredients and pans, while the old friends pour each other some deep red wine over the counter. Did they already polish off a whole bottle of white during cooking time, though? <em> Yikes. </em></p>
<p>John smirks to himself quietly, thinking of the blond’s surprise to his claim over the night’s cooking. Figures. No one looks at that dorky, klutzy Egbert face and expects him to be an excellent fucking cook. Or a pianist. Or have more than two brain cells. Huh.</p>
<p>He’s hard to see coming.</p>
<p>Pretty sure the shock about his prowess is just beginning tonight, though! “Cooking and baking is in the Crockerberts’ blood, as esoteric as that sounds. Of course, Jane has inherited the baking gift, fittingly, unlike me. Control freaks are good bakers.” He lifts his eyes up to both his sister and the Strider with a knowing smirk. “And I’m more of a freeform, sloppy, throw it all together cook. But hey, it works.” John finishes explaining his culinary-based personality type theory, and waving a barbecueing fork in the air in unison with his words, and gets to actually hands-on field practice. In a minute, the cheese is already in the preheated oven and there’s some veggies frying slowly on a wok, ready to toss with the shrimp and pasta.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna throw the meat into the barbecue so it starts slow-cooking, or it won’t be ready in time. I’ll be right back.” He swiftly steps through the side door, jar of coarse salt in hand and careful not to trip over the threshold. It’s just a few steps down to the patio, where the grill lies in wait, smoldering and fuming slightly. It’s just right, John declares internally as he throws the juicy cuts of meat over the coals.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>He tries, he really does, but his eyes fly up of their own accord, trying to read the other two partygoers’ expressions from afar, wondering what they’re talking about while he’s away. And having the uncomfortable, possibly paranoid feeling that he’s gonna be their main topic of discussion for the night.</p>
<p>It’s a dark but pleasant, moonlit night.</p><hr/>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>Oh no.</p>
<p>Oh <em> hell </em>no.</p>
<p>Dirk isn’t sure what kind of development he’s missed in the few nanoseconds he dedicated to blinking, but when he registers the visual input received through his retinas, John is wearing the most stereotypical <em> American Way Of Life </em> apron he’s ever seen. He’s saying it’s Jane’s, but <em> has she ever used that? </em></p>
<p>The problem is that he can’t decide if it’s comical or… some other category of adjectives.</p>
<p>And John’s joking, offering casual banter and looking entirely in his element for once. It makes Dirk’s shoulders drop a little, even if he has a hard time keeping his eyes away from the goddamn stupid frills of that apron. Alright, he’s decided: it’s ridiculous.</p>
<p>…It’s ridiculous, but John wears it well.</p>
<p>No, fuck that train of thought. Oh god <em> fucking </em>dammit, Dirk snapped his head away one millisecond too fast and now Jane’s gaze latched onto him. He can feel it and knows she’s onto him. The blond closes his eyes and leans more heavily on the counter.</p>
<p>The woman hands him his glass and they clink them together briefly before taking a sip, just as John steps out to tend to the meat.</p>
<p>Dirk raises an eyebrow. “‘Control freaks are good bakers’?”</p>
<p>“All but one, it seems,” Jane chuckles.</p>
<p>“So it seems.”</p>
<p>“Indeed.”</p>
<p>“…”</p>
<p>“…”</p>
<p>“Did you-”</p>
<p>“I did not.”</p>
<p>“Are you-”</p>
<p>“Positive.”</p>
<p>“…”</p>
<p>“…”</p>
<p>“…”</p>
<p>“Were you not aware that John could cook?”</p>
<p>“It never came up.”</p>
<p>“I see. Is that why you’re so quiet?”</p>
<p>“…I’m not quiet.”</p>
<p>Jane presses her lips and looks down at her glass, trying to hide her smirk. “Of course.”</p>
<p>Dirk snorts. “Damn, maybe I should actually try baking sometime.”</p>
<p>Just in time, too, because John is coming back. The blond takes a generous gulp. Well, it’s a pleasant tug on his taste buds, if only to distract him from the assault on some other muscle.</p>
<p>From the corner of his eye, he catches Jane mid-yawn and arches an eyebrow. “Oh my, pardon me. Today we had an impromptu meeting early in the morning, so I haven’t managed to get much sleep, what with the party creeping into late hours yesterday.” She sets down the glass on the counter and folds her arms over it. “It was a lovely occasion, though. I even managed to chat with your sister for a while,” the woman smiles at her friend. “I didn’t know she and Jade were so close.”</p>
<p>Dirk sighs, measuring his words very carefully. “It’s news to me, too. She told me only a few weeks ago.” He huffs between amused and exasperated. “I know we all live close by, but this is getting ridiculous.”</p>
<p>Jane chuckles. “Some might say it’s fate. But I gather she’s studying computer science? Following in the steps of her brother?”</p>
<p>Despite himself, Dirk chuckles. “I wish. No, that’s all hers. She takes to coding like a cookie to a user’s browsing info.”</p>
<p>She scrunches her thin brows together. “Wasn’t Jade studying something else entirely? How did they come across each other in college?” Jane rests her cheek on her hand. “That sure is one unusual pair. But I suppose they’re not the only one.” She glances up at John.</p><hr/>
<p>As he comes back into the kitchen with no small amount of wariness, John inadvertently smiles to himself as he catches wind of the two best friends’ conversation. It's just... really cool, to hang near them while they chat, voices warm and relaxed. They seem so good for each other, it makes him happy for Jane. ...happy for Dirk, too.</p>
<p>While they catch up a bit, John takes the Camembert out of the oven with the mitts, managing to only burn himself ever so slightly, and leaves it on a rack to cool for a minute. It is replaced in the oven by a tray of potatoes and glazed onions, to go with the meat, later. Then he gets the first course finished, the pasta is ready, the sauce piping hot, to which he adds a liberal amount of red pepper flakes at the last possible second, the shrimp fried and spiced. The noodles get placed on a wide oblong bowl, topping it with the rich sauce and, finally, the seafood to crown. Done.</p>
<p>…time to finally get rid of the stupid lolita outfit. Who even puts a petticoat under an apron?! Whatever.</p>
<p>Free of annoying frills and back at the kitchen island, John jumps back into the conversation: “Jade and I took the same course together at UH: <em> History of Superheroes</em>,” he recounts, unable to hold back the chuckles. “It was pretty awesome, 5 credits and most of the time we spent watching movies or reading comics. Roxy was there, too.“ He busies himself with yet another task in the meantime, arranging a tray with crackers, dried fruit, crudités, all in a circle for the cheese plate. </p>
<p>“That’s how we… well not <em> met</em>, but you know, started all hanging out together more.” Besides himself, he shoots Dirk a knowing look, quickly bringing his eyes back down, but failing to repress cracking a tiny little grin. God, they have the dumbest history, don’t they. “Later, Rox and I were in a couple more classes together. I don’t think any of Jade’s astrophysics courses intersected with Roxy’s after that, but they kept hanging all the time anyway. And they’ve become sort of bffs, apparently!” …unless. A startling idea passes through his mind, but… no. No way, not those two, and especially after… last night’s… um, Roxy… </p>
<p>…he really should drop the youngest Lalonde a message real soon, to check in with each other real quick. And… thank her for being so cool, again. That kind of meant a lot to John.</p>
<p> It takes him a minute til he registers his sister’s last quip. Somewhat. His eyes widen, “we’re not about to discuss why Rose and I made such a horrendous couple, I think it’s perfectly discernible right now, let’s just leave it implied,” he waves his hand and his eyes shoot back to the plate he’s putting together, his face scrunched up in a pout. Roasted almonds, figs, grapes. “It’s because we’re better best friends than anything else. End of story.” As much as he wants to be pissed at the intrusion, he can’t avoid a small amused snort at the ridiculousness. He also puts <em> having a real, extended, much-overdue talk with Rose </em> in his near-future to-do list, as he drops the baked cheese pastry in the center of the tray. “Ok, this is ready,” he declares as he retrieves the white wine and pours himself another glass. “We should sit down and eat, yeah?” </p>
<p>With the food hot and ready on the counter, the brunette walks around to join the two friends, and raises his glass to his sister. “By the way, Janey, happy birthday, officially this time!”</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>'History of Superheroes’. Are you fucking serious? </em>
</p>
<p>Dirk meets John’s meaningful look and feels some satisfaction from the fact that he can’t see the roll of his eyes behind the shades.</p>
<p>But that piece of information does fill a gap in Dirk’s database, namely about Roxy’s recent friendship with John and Jade. He sips his wine as the man keeps talking, thinking about his younger sister’s words yesterday. Something tells him she went out of her way to make sure he knew he’d turned her down.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Jane’s face falls slightly when John mentions Rose. “That… is not what I--” She stops herself with a shake of her head, reaching for glass to take another sip as Dirk snorts and looks away. <em> Yes, John, please, just protect the night with your obliviousness. </em></p>
<p>Thinking back on the circumstances of their first night, Dirk’s own behavior rings somewhat foreign to himself. Perhaps having the aftermath of Jake’s whole whirlwind of shit still fresh on the walls of his mind and meeting his insufferable sister set him off in an unexpected way.</p>
<p>After being forced to spend more time with John, though, he hardly thinks having him added to the family again would have been the worst that could have happened. He just doesn’t get why the women in his family flock to the guy.</p>
<p>…well, the women and himself, as it turns out.</p>
<p>John draws his attention to the food and Dirk unconsciously licks his lips. Admittedly, the stuff looks fucking delicious. The smell has been making him hungry ever since he arrived and he’s reminded of how little he’s eaten today.</p>
<p>Dirk frowns down at his glass of wine. Shit. His stomach is empty. For someone who gave Roxy so much shit for her breeding vice a year ago, he’s sure letting himself loose.</p>
<p>It’s different, he tells himself, and drinks another gulp.</p>
<p>John circles around and Jane clinks her glass to his. “Happy birthday to us!” She turns to Dirk and does the same.</p>
<p>“Congratulations on your twenty-third yearly reminder of your mortality.” Jane smacks him playfully and he breaks out a smile before reaching out his glass to John. “For you it’s the twenty-first, if I’m not mistaken?”</p><hr/>
<p>White and red wine glasses clink once more with a satisfying ring. “That’s right,” John answers with a badly repressed smirk. “And I know Jane has seniority over you, so you must be… twenty-two?” The brunette brings the glass up to his lips to sip, holding the blond’s gaze firmly with amusement in his bright blue eyes.</p>
<p>“Ok, let’s dig in, it’s gonna get cold! Also I’m gonna eat my own dick if we don’t.” Wondering where he could have picked up that vivid expression, John grimaces at his own wording, not to mention getting a literal corrective ear-pulling from his sister.</p>
<p>With their combined efforts, the first part of dinner makes it to the table: food, bread and drinks, onto the colorful table his sister has already set up in advance. Flawless is an understatement, John could swear those plates have been set geometrically on the tablecloth with millimetric precision, good lord. They should take some pictures.</p>
<p>Wine is poured all around and Jane does the honors to cut into the Camembert pastry first with the cheese knife so they can indulge in the gooey goodness. Her brother is so fucking ravenous, he digs in before it has had a single minute to stop steaming. “Wow, I am so sick of my glasses fogging up.” With an annoyed grunt, he pushes them up into his hair for the time being. “Did you ever try those contact lenses, Jane? Because I’m considering it.” A thought just occurs to him, dug out from the mixed bag of yesterday’s memories. He knows <em> someone else </em> who used to wear glasses.</p>
<p>“Wait wait, Dirk. You had glasses on in yesterday’s kid pictures!” And also a few other variances. It would be a blast to play <em> find the 7 differences </em> with those, actually. “Do you wear contacts?” John asks with a rapt stare, while shoving a forkful of gooey cheese and crust into his mouth.</p>
<p>…and then starts fanning his tongue with a napkin half a second later, when it starts burning like hell.</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk confirms with a head nod, unsurprised that he knows that. <em> For a few more months, at least, </em> he adds mentally.</p>
<p>As they move to transport dinner to the table, he holds back a chuckle from the scolding Jane quips at John’s foul figure of speech. Dude has been spending too much time around his family. </p>
<p>It’s been a while since the last time the blond had the opportunity to have such a rich home-cooked meal. Almost feels wrong, somehow. Irrationality aside, though, Dirk manages to keep his cool to take a portion to himself with deliberate, careful movements. Stumbling and toppling things over are more John’s brand.</p>
<p>The inside of the cheesy pastry does seem to be steaming, though, so he subtly pokes around it to inspect the ingredients, but doesn’t dare to shove it in his mouth yet. Instead, he snacks on the adjacent complements and reaches for some more wine.</p>
<p>Turns out it was a wise decision, because John is asking something about his past and burning his tongue with his own food. Instant karma, to those who believe it.</p>
<p>Jane slips a roasted almond between her lips and turns to him with an amused look, expectant. This shouldn’t sound like such a big deal.</p>
<p>“Sometimes,” Dirk replies. “It’s not that bad. My eyes have a high level of photosensitivity, though, so my vision gets blurry with time if I don’t at least wear a dark filter over them. As you can see,” he gestures to his face. “I prefer the latter.”</p>
<p>From Jane’s face, she doesn’t buy that, but she also mercifully doesn’t call bullshit on him. At least he’s answered the question.</p>
<p>“Apparently, the mutant genes that give the four of us these pin-up eye colors also fuck up the sensitivity of our optical nerves or something.” Why the fuck is he elaborating on that. “We usually go to the doctor’s once a year to check up on that.”</p>
<p>The forkful he’s put aside to cool seems to be of an acceptable temperature, so he takes a bite. The cheese melts in his mouth and the flavor bleeds into his tongue, making his eyes close of their own accord.</p>
<p>It’s fucking delicious.</p>
<p>“My god, John, this is really good!” Jane fortunately voices that thought for him. “I feel like I’m getting a second gift from you with this meal, hoho.”</p><hr/>
<p>“An’ ids hod, doo” John sloppily mumbles around the burning food in his mouth, finally putting out the fire with some water. “Oof. But thanks! How is it a gift though? It’s going in my mouth too,” he chomps down, possibly to reinforce his point, and definitely because he’s super hungry. Also, it came out pretty tasty. “Your gift was the dumb pikachu hat, Jane, it’s magnificently stupid, admit it, go on.” A thought finally comes back to his mind, all of a sudden. God, he’s unfocused. “Oh! And the song. I hope you liked it.” Rubbing the back of your neck when you’re flustered will immediately stop the blushing and babbling, it’s science, look it up. “I’m planning to record it for you, so you have a permanent version of it to listen to if you want.”</p>
<p>“Those were some ugly ass baby pictures though, oh my god. Jane, how come you always look like a perfectly happy little girl in all our photos and I look like a fat alien baby? I need to send whoever donated those pictures a thoughtful ‘screw you’ note, ugh. I think it’s because I look weird without glasses,” blinking at his semiblurry interlocutors, he finally remembers to slip his lenses from his hair back down onto his nose. “So maybe the contacts are a bad idea.”</p>
<p>While he waits for the cheese to finish its transformation from molten lava into edible food, he serves himself some pasta right next to it. “Hey, do you recognize this dish?” Repressing a grin, he looks at Jane quizzically, but not before watching Dirk off the corner of his eye for an instant. Not that any of his reactions are evident at the moment, what with those damn shades.</p>
<p>John is absolutely positive that is 100% on purpose. He listened to the elder Strider’s cock-and-bull story about his genetics in silent amusement earlier, wondering if he really finds it plausible for people who know him to believe that he wears them for any reason other than shielding his expression. Hypersensitivity indoors at night with soft indirect lights, <em> my ass.</em></p>
<p>Instead of bothering him, though, it gives John a funny feeling in his stomach and makes him want to chuckle. Still, he wishes he could see those eyes. John has always admired the intensity of Dave’s red eyes, the deep violet of Rose’s irises that give her a mystical air, and Roxy’s are such a cool bright pink color, they really are a fascinating anime technicolor-eyed bunch. But… </p>
<p>Some flashbacks come to his mind, very recent ones, raging fire searing into his blue, and he swallows. There’s no denying which one of the StriLondes’ set of brilliant jewel-toned eyes has dug its heels onto his top #1 favorite. Damn, is that man under his skin.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>How long has he been spacing out?</p>
<p>Right, back to the <em> Shrimp Fra Diavolo</em>. “I’ll give you a hint,” John shakes his fork in the air with pensive eyes. “You mentioned this dish… exactly a year ago.”</p>
<p>The brunette’s not exactly the greatest fan of seafood, but when he remembered this recipe, he thought it might be special for the two best friends to have, and he couldn’t resist.</p><hr/>
<p>A smile threatens to break through his lips at John’s frenzy to eat, to the point of sacrificing his taste buds, but Dirk catches himself at the last second and shoves another piece of the pastry in his mouth. This one is unfortunately a bit too hot, so he grits his teeth and chews through the burn. Goddammit.</p>
<p>Jane has cut her piece open to cool down faster and is currently inspecting the pasta. She looks up at John’s remark. “And there were lovely gifts, dear, but this is also unexpected. Besides delicious, of course,” she smiles, taking a bite of the cheese concoction. “I would love to hear it again, yes. Thank you. But don’t you <em> dare </em>bad-mouth young little John, those pictures are precious!” Judging by his face, though, John seems to disagree.</p>
<p>Since the two siblings seem to be having a moment, Dirk takes to tackling a bit of the shrimp pasta. It’s been a while since he actually looked forward to feast upon a specific meal, but well, seafood is one of his favorite ingredients. Sue him.</p>
<p>The sauce is pretty spicy and mixes well with the shrimp. It also does taste familiar. The blond frowns, considering, then looks up at John, only to find him staring straight at him.</p>
<p>The thing with John’s eyes is that they are so vibrant and intense that they <em> force </em>you to look back at them. Almost like magnetism, or like the constricting allure of staring into the abyss of the ocean. Like you don’t know what you might find there.</p>
<p>Like you fear you might fall into it and drown.</p>
<p>“Hmmm yes, now that you mention it, this… Dirk, isn’t this the dish we ordered on my birthday at Skaia last year?” Jane turns to him. “…Dirk?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, something like '<em>fettuccine Fra Diavolo</em>', right?” He wraps some noodles around his fork and tastes them too. He nods, savoring the smooth taste of olive oil clashing with the ardent pepper, then looks up at John again. “Is that what you were going for? It’s pretty spot on.”</p>
<p>The woman hums in delight. “Indeed! With the added flavor of a home-cooked meal, that is.” Jane forks a shrimp, then takes a bite. “I was puzzled when I saw the shrimp since I know you don’t fancy sea foods much, but I figured your tastes could have been swayed by Dirk’s preferences somehow.”</p>
<p>Said man takes a sip of his wine.</p><hr/>
<p>Jane praises their baby pictures, John snarls at her squeeing over his chonky baby cheeks, typical brother and sister, fond familial silliness. It’s nice, John muses while sticking out his tongue at Jane with his face wrinkled up in fake disgust. They should really hang out more when this whole weirdly idyllic period is over, because… he still resists the belief that their lives are really gonna change so much. But he can’t let everything slip away, again.</p>
<p>Movement off the corner of his eye snatches his attention away, however, his amused grinning face drops to a soft, neutral expression as he is spellbound intrigued by the Strider bringing his food to his lips and… wrapping his mouth around the fork to taste it. And. Um. John’s curiosity to see if he recognizes the dish. Of course. Duh.</p>
<p>It’s not that easy, at all, to quickly discern that Dirk’s raised his gaze to meet his, and is. Just. Looking at him. John’s heart thrums in his chest like a kettledrum on overdrive. Goddammit, no, he’s <em> gotta </em>notice. Fuck. </p>
<p>Still, his deep blue eyes go nowhere, glued to the man in front of him, the brunette’s frozen mind only vaguely acknowledging that it’s amazing how <em> powerful </em>a single look can be, even with a sleek dark shield in between them.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Hey.</p>
<p>
  <em> Hey. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> JANE’S TALKING TO YOU. </em>
</p>
<p>The birthday boy blinks slowly, as he finally manages to miraculously wrench his focus off Dirk, and back to his sister. <em> Huh? </em> is the equivalent of his facial expression for a second. That, or his mouth turning into a question mark, somehow.</p>
<p>“Oh? Um.” Then he registers the implications of his elder sister’s comment, and his eyes widen as they shoot to the side to glare at her, incredulous.<em> Goddammit, Jane. </em> Knowing her it was probably an innocent fumble, and he guesses it’s not like the nature of the two boys’ relationship has been made exactly clear to her so far, so… Fine, okay, it’s his fucking fault. But still. <em> Help a brother out, come on</em>, the brunette asks his sister telepathically.</p>
<p>“No, Jane, we haven’t really had the chance to bond over the culinary use of marine arthropods.” It comes a bit more hissing and dramatic than he intends, so he rolls his eyes sarcastically for good and hopefully light-hearted measure.</p>
<p>“And um, yeah. It’s Skaia’s recipe, sort of, I changed a couple things on the way that I thought would make it better, but mostly. And don’t ask me how I got it, okay? <em> Shenanigans</em>, is obviously how.” His eyebrow raises cheekily, being a little proud of himself for that one. “Well, last year after your birthday, when I asked you how your date was, you told me how much you guys liked this, so.” He runs his hand nervously over his nape, looking away. “I thought I’d try and recreate it for you, since everything was kind of a mess this year and you haven’t had the chance to go.” </p>
<p>John’s been getting a curious look from his sister since a certain word came up, so he counters, “what, like you need to be married with three kids and a dog to go on a date? It’s a friend date, or a… platonic date, whatever. No one’s gonna ask for your official couple papers.” The brunette finally stops spouting out gibberish, and takes a good long swig off his wine glass.</p>
<p>“I guess it’s really been a while since I last cooked for… well, anyone. We should get together more often for dinner, maybe like once a month, one of those <em> every third Friday of the month </em> deals. That’d be cool,” he declares, finishing up the last of his pasta. And failing painfully to not direct his eyes back at the blond, although he seems rather intent on staring his plate of food down at the moment.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna go check on the meat real quick, it should be almost done.” A faint, feeble smile makes an appearance on his face while he gets up. “Be right back.”</p><hr/>
<p>Much to John’s dismay, it would be impossible for anyone with eyes on Earth to miss the way he gets lost looking at Dirk. Jane, being the cunning woman she is, obviously doesn’t, smiling to herself.</p>
<p>She is a bit concerned, despite her earlier reassurances. <em> They are adults</em>, she tells herself, repressing her urge to meddle.</p>
<p>Dirk briefly alternates his gaze between the two siblings, picking up on the nervousness in Jane’s smile. Shit.</p>
<p>The subject fortunately changes its focus when John keeps gushing about his dish. The blond dutifully honors it by eating in silence.</p>
<p>“<em>Shenanigans</em>,” Jane repeats. “Naturally.”</p>
<p>She chuckles at his verbal fumbling about calling their celebration a date. It was a common misconception back in highschool to think Jane and Dirk were a couple, to the point they even got to consider it for a few seconds in a lazy afternoon when they were around sixteen, after which Dirk was able to confirm he was indeed not into girls. At least no one can argue he’s never tried it, he supposes.</p>
<p>Not that he ever really needed any confirmation.</p>
<p>“I appreciate it, John, but it’s also not your fault, I hope you’re aware,” Jane reassures him, then sighs, waving the fork with half a shrimp in the air. “Ever since the company decided to branch out, it’s been a right mess to manage each unit. We’re still adapting.”</p>
<p>She glances at Dirk. He pretends not to notice. “Setting a regular date sounds wonderful, though. Something to look forward to.”</p>
<p>The Strider’s not sure the invitation extends to him, given the circumstances in which he’s met with John so far. They haven’t really had anything that could be considered a ‘date’ according to the usual standards, and Dirk’s not really sure he would even enjoy a romcom-style activity. He’s even banned from some establishments, anyhow. If the point is sharing an enjoyable moment with someone, then isn’t it better to focus on something you both like instead?</p>
<p>He does have an old <em> Intendo </em>console. John’s mentioned some games he likes that could work on it.</p>
<p>For, y’know. Just in case.</p>
<p>While he’s distracted not musing about their common interests, John exits the room. Dirk braces himself.</p>
<p>“Our <em> date</em>, huh,” Jane prompts, then falls into quiet laughter.</p>
<p>Dirk’s teeth flash in a grin as he leans back and reaches for the wine. “I bet your suitors were burning with jealousy.”</p>
<p>She waves a hand. “A woman like me wards off men. They’re scared of a lady who can ponder statistics in her head.”</p>
<p>“Yet humanity considers fucking robots,” he throws back. “Hypocrites.”</p>
<p>Jane covers her mouth with a hand, taken by surprise, but still shaking with laughter. “Dirk, that’s crude! Jesus.”</p>
<p>His smile dies down as he takes a sip off his glass, but the warm feeling remains. It’s been a pleasant evening so far, better than he expected, even. However, there’s hesitation in the few seconds of silence Jane allows to stretch out between them. He’s not about to ruin the mood, though, so he waits for her to take the lead.</p>
<p>“We really should try to meet more often, though.” Jane leans forward on the table, the lighting making her dark hair stand out more against her skin. She looks relaxed, a sight unusual to whoever knows her. “I do miss you, you know.”</p>
<p>Dirk blinks. This isn’t really what he was expecting her to say.</p>
<p>Doesn’t mean it’s less uncomfortable to hear.</p>
<p>“I know, but please try to push through. It’s a burden for everyone who knows me to bear, sadly,” the man drawls in a mocking humble voice, then shrugs. “I’m just that charismatic.”</p>
<p>The hostess shakes her head, amused. Then, the door opens again and she looks up at John before smirking at Dirk. “It would appear so.” </p>
<p>He eats his damn cheesy pastry and shuts up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The chunky steaks on the grill sizzle at an optimal charred yet juicy cooking point. Someone should <em> really </em>take them off the heat... but John’s just staring vacantly in their general direction.</p><p>Everything feels so intense right now, like his nerves got peeled down to the core and are throbbing raw.</p><p>The young man turns his hazy gaze back up to the house instinctively, even though there’s no line of sight to the dinner table, because he can hear Dirk and Jane’s quiet voices in the still quiet of the evening. He takes one deep breath of refreshing, rapidly cooling-down air. His heart is still pounding frenziedly within his chest.</p><p>It’s been an enjoyable night so far, but he… he has no idea what’s gonna happen. Or how devastating it may or may not be. </p><p>…</p><p>A different voice, coming from within him, the one that he keeps hearing more and more often lately, says <em> you can get through this. </em></p><p>Whatever <em> this </em>really is.</p><p> </p><p>The old friends are chatting quietly inside when John comes back in with a full tray of meat, smelling deliciously of coal and mesquite. With swift movements and almost unaffected breath, finally, he brings the pan out of the oven, and gathers the potatoes and onions together with a ready bok choy, enoki mushroom and ginger stir-fry. At least the grub will be spot on tonight, he hopes, as he joins the other two back at the table.</p><p>The rest of dinner ensues in peace and leisurely casual conversation, with the occasional tension of feeling like Dirk digs his eyes a bit too hard into him when the brunette’s talking, or Jane’s concerned expression when one of the two men has a bit of a bumbling moment with the other. Or with themselves. They’re so fucking smooth, aren’t they. </p><p>Still, what goes on is mostly easy banter, amusing little anecdotes, and a couple of sweet moments betweens the siblings and the two best friends. Even… Dirk’s impromptu chuckle when John suggests the possibility of Jane’s simping crush on <em> Beast </em>from the X-men, out of the blue and without much tact. That’s a noteworthy moment to mention, right? Or… whatever.</p><p>John feels good. It’s basic, but he’s just… <em> feeling good</em>, which wasn’t necessarily among the items in tonight’s list of <em> achievable goals</em>, so that’s already a pleasant surprise. <em> It could have been way worse </em> feels like the wrong attitude, though. Especially because… it might still be? Night is young. </p><p>There’s a comfortable moment of quiet after they’ve finished their second course, which came out pretty scrumptious, or at least it was John’s favorite, and a relaxed, fuzzy feeling going tingling down his body from being properly fed. Not to mention from several glasses of wine.</p><p>…maybe it’ll just be an uneventful, <em> nice </em>night.</p><p> </p><p>After a bit of a span, Jane springs up to go grab the cake, prompting an <em> oof </em> from her brother. He’s sure it’ll be delicious, like everything Jane bakes from scratch, but hell, he’s pretty stuffed. John’s about to get up to go get things himself, or at least help out, but he’s stopped by his sister’s gentle hand on his shoulder, in a gesture he easily identifies as <em> you’ve done enough for the night, let me get this one</em>. She’s so great.</p><p>Unless… it means <em> stay with Dirk and stop circling around each other so much</em>, on this particular occasion. Plausible. She’s still great, then, but with a distinctly more terrifying aftertaste.</p><p>The younger man turns his eyes towards the blond, chin propped up on his hand.</p><p>“Dirk.”</p><p>Despite himself and the nervous pinch currently squeezing the pit of his stomach, John’s instinct is to smile at him lopsidedly, with warmth and brightness in his vivid blue eyes.</p><hr/><p>“John.” Dirk promptly shoots back, leaning back on his chair, arms lax on his sides. Jane can be heard tinkering around with utensils in the kitchen after her ‘swift’ ‘escape’.</p><p>The brunette’s looking at him intently. There’s no pretext here, they’re just staring at each other over the table, John with fondness and Dirk…</p><p>Well, it doesn’t matter, because John can’t see it anyway.</p><p>The silence stretches on and adds to the gravitational field of the other man’s gaze. Dirk finally looks away. Wow, that is one exquisite work of art on the wall. Fascinating.</p><p>It’s ok, he sits in silence with friends all the time and they still harbor pleasure from it. Okay, with his siblings and Jane. And Jane doesn’t really like silence.</p><p>Maybe he can comment something casually and off-hand, not compromising in any way. </p><p>“You really didn’t pull any punches with dinner today, huh.”</p><p>Jesus christ, Dirk Strider. What happened to your aloof demeanor, your cool composure and sleek posture? Have you really fallen back into the haunting pits of awkwardness from your teenage years?</p><p>…Hell no.</p><p>He looks up at John again, holding his gaze.</p><p>At some point in the heated stare-down, Jane pokes her head out of the kitchen with a rubber scraper. “Dirk, would you be a dear and lend me a hand for a tad?”</p><p>There it is. He tries not to jump out of his chair and instead pushes it very deliberately to stand. Maybe a little <em> too </em>deliberately. Fuck.</p><p>Anyway, he chases after Jane, who shoots a look at John before resuming her finalization of what is undoubtedly a pornographically delicious sugary concoction.</p><hr/><p>Blinking is all John can do at the moment, after the intense game of <em> staredown chicken </em> Dirk and he just played, the only interruption one tense question from the Strider, and John’s voice squeaking <em> ’special occasion’ </em> awkwardly. Thank god for those shades??</p><p>…no. Not even then.</p><p>As his body finally lets go of its nervous vice to let his shoulders relax slightly, he huffs out all the air he seems to have been holding in his lungs for minutes.</p><p>…</p><p>Jane and Dirk are busying themselves in the kitchen. Maybe for a while.</p><p>Time to bail for a spell and breathe for real. Just for like, two minutes. Pretty fucking please. He needs it. Quietly, he gets up and makes it out the side door inconspicuously enough.</p><p>Outside, it’s getting cold. There’s a dry breeze, the sound of the wind rustling in the nearby vegetation, barely any noises besides muted voices inside, a car or two passing by in the distance, the crinkling of a package and the clicking of some flint and stones. Peace. Finally. John breathes deep, in, and out, once again.</p><p>Phew.</p><p>So as not to think, he grabs his phone from his tight back pocket, only to find a barrage of thoughtful messages received during the afternoon and evening. Now is as good a time as any, John muses with a little sideways smile.</p><p> </p><p>First, Dave. He hasn’t thought of Dave… in a while. He’s been trying not to, actually. Oof. </p><p>…</p><p>There’s no way he’s not gonna have some choice words with a Strider real soon, isn’t there.</p><p>Well. That’ll make two. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- turntechGodhead has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">TG: yo man happy comin out of a snatch day</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: hi5s all around</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: to your sister too</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: wait no dont tell her i said that</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: the snatch thing i mean the hi5s are pg13 scool</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: no wait r theyre r rated</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: striders hi5 too hot man what can i say</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: in fact boom you see this they just got bumped to x</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: x rated af i mean they come with their own parental advisory explicit content warning stamped on the forehead in neon colors they had to issue a new eye searing model for this grade of strider meat</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: motion picture association staff creaming their panties as they rush to the censorship office with this kinda off the hook lewd content</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: raw as the wu tang clan on steroids dude they cant believe it shits so unreal</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: in fact its probably too goddamn pornographic for a dweeb like you you sure you ready for this egbert</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: i mean i know youre hot as fuck for some strider beef you know it we both know it</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: jk youre 21 youre practically a lady now you can aim for some serious action</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: and by action i mean some lame beers prolly</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: in fact youre older than me so its now your responsibility to make me drink illegally</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: lets get together man pound a few shit the shoot and raise some hot hell</span>
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  <span class="dave">TG: neway hmu when ur free man were due lets wreck this mf</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="dave">TG: happy birthday dude</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- turntechGodhead has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p>Goddammit, Dave.</p><p>Instead of sweating up a storm about potential revelations to his best friend about gay fucking his beloved older brother he moves on to the next string of well-wishing messages.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gardenGnostic has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jade">GG: happy birthday to you</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jade">GG: happy birthday to you</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jade">GG: happy birthday dear joooooohnnyyyy</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jade">GG: happy birthday to you!!!!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jade">GG: &lt;3</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: happy 21st birthday john!!!</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: we got you a gift!!!</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: i meant to give it to you last night when it hit 12 but i guess you left early??</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: how come you ghosted us like that you party pooper?? x(</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: hahaha you know im kidding janey told us you were kinda exhausted but with all thats been going on lately i totally understand!</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: its ok john go at your own pace</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: weve got your back always!!</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: but dont you think you can get away from celebrating with us!!</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: were on for lunch real soon and there better be some choice gossiping john!! its been too freaking long!! :D</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: jake says happy birthday too we cant wait to have some family time with you!!</span>
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  <span class="jade">GG: see ya soon, love ya, miss ya!!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jade">GG: &lt;3!!!</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gardenGnostic has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p>Oh goody, family gossip time with Jade AND Jake. Son of a fucking bi-</p><p>Let’s just get this over with.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tentacleTherapist has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="rose">TT: My dear John,</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: I wish you a very happy birthday.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: It is rarely in my nature to express myself with dangerous levels of sincerity, you know this.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: So you must forgive me if, in my bumbling inexperience, you detect the whiff of any manner of sarcastic leak, or, god forbid, the morbid stench of faux pas.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: That said, here goes nothing.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: ...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: Damnit.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: The truth of the matter is, John, on this day, what I want for you is...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: To be happy.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: You deserve happiness, and there is nothing I could wish more for you than...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: A happy life, love, and being proud of yourself.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: ...like you helped me be, many times in the past.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: I am wary of oversentimentality, so I will end in a way as formulaic as a poem stolen from a greeting card, which is what I am outright telling you that I literally did.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: "Happy birthday to you, my dear,"</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: "I hope you never have any fear."</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: I am proud of you, and I love you.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: Love yourself, John.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="rose">TT: Happy birthday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tentacleTherapist has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">...</span>
</p><p>Rose...</p><p>.</p><p>..</p><p>...</p><p>
  <em> He is definitely not tearing up. </em>
</p><hr/><p>Dirk assumes his perch against the counter while Jane retrieves a bowl with previously mixed frosting from the fridge. There are three layers of cake stacked on a plate beside him and an empty tray.</p><p>As Jane places the base slice on the platter and proceeds to smear the dark cream over it, the blond sighs. “So, I assume you didn’t request an audience so I’d hold your hand throughout the climax of your baking process?”</p><p>The woman smiles, caught in her act. “Well… I’ve heard John’s side of the story. Now, shall we hear yours?”</p><p>Dirk cocks his head slightly at her. “Is this a trial?”</p><p>“For now it’s more of a hearing, but depends on how you plead,” she throws back without missing a beat.</p><p>“Are you the jury or the judge in this scenario?”</p><p>“You know the jury would never be on your side.”</p><p>“It could be on yours.”</p><p>Jane shakes her head, stacking the second layer of the cake. “Well it would be terribly lonely to watch you from all the way across the courtroom, would it not?” She slaps on the second coat of frosting and arches an eyebrow at him. “I’ve grown used to having you by my side.”</p><p>The quick banter reminds Dirk of who he’s talking to, causing a smile to break out over his lips. “I guess.”</p><p>His friend's face falls slightly. “Yet sometimes I have a feeling you forget I stand with you.”</p><p>Dirk holds her gaze for a few seconds, then looks away again. He’s been anticipating something like this, but he’s no more receptive of it now than he was this morning.</p><p>“I’ve promised John I wouldn’t stick my spoon into your batters, but…” Jane trails off as she paints a generous coat of dark cocoa cream on the second disc of cake. “He deserves at least your sincerity, Dirk.”</p><p>He sighs again. “I haven't been insincere, Jane.”</p><p>“Lying by omission, then?”</p><p>The blond holds his breath.</p><p>Feeling she might be coming on too sharp, Jane softens her tone as she adjusts the top layer on the cake and proceeds to cover everything in chocolate. “Dirk, dear, I’m aware of at least some of the motives for your hesitation, and I can tell you this: genetics don’t define you.” He’s aware. “It’s part of who you are, but you can't be reduced to that. Surely you must know that, Strider.”</p><p>Dirk stares at a stained tile on the floor. </p><p>“What happened with Jake shouldn’t keep you from trying something significant again with anyone, including John,” she continues in her best counseling tone. “I know that you know that, Dirk, you’re one of the brightest people I know. You just happen to balance it out by being a tad emotionally inarticulate,” Jane smiles in teasing sympathy.</p><p>The man snorts. “I’m pretty sure the bluntness runs in your family, though.”</p><p>The baker levels the cover of frosting on all sides. “That is indeed a family heirloom. One of the few.”</p><p>“I'll take your word for it,” Dirk quips, then looks up at the ceiling. “But that’s not really it.”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“I can't be bothered to commit to a relationship right now, Jane.”</p><p>She seems to ponder it for a bit as she reaches for the pot with chocolate shavings. “Is that what John wants?”</p><p>“...I suppose.”</p><p>“Have you asked him?”</p><p>“...No.”</p><p>Jane clicks her tongue, arranging the decoration on top of the cake. “Inference without logical connection is just assumption, Dirk. That's not very Cartesian of you, now, is it?”</p><p>He rolls his eyes behind the shades. “I’d say I can't believe you're using my own words against me, except I actually do.”</p><p>“I use whichever arms I have at my disposition,” she grins.</p><p>“Alright, Colonel Batterwitch.”</p><p>Jane chuckles and finishes off the layered cake before washing her hands. It looks and smells divine. It probably tastes like that, too. They’re about to find out.</p><p>The woman stops before her friend with a concerned look. “I just love you both and I want you both to be happy. If that happens with you being together, all the better, then.”</p><p>Dirk’s lips twitch into a brief smile. “I appreciate it, Jane, but don’t worry. If you get even one more ounce of weight on your shoulders, I’m pretty sure they will tear.”</p><p>Shaking her head, she approaches to give him a warm hug. Even after all this time, he’s barely gotten used to it, but now the blond knows to reciprocate instead of just take it like a marble statue.</p><p>They pull apart after a few seconds and Jane holds out her hand before him. Dirk looks down at her palm, then back at her with a raised brow.</p><p>“Your specs,” she explains. “That’s your sentence.”</p><p>Dirk stares at her for some beats of the clock, debating on whether it’s worth it to argue with his best friend about that on her birthday.</p><p>The answer is pretty obvious.</p><p>“There you go.” Jane’s voice sounds triumphant and satisfied when she closes her fingers delicately around the frame of his shades in her hands. “Now we’re all equal.”</p><p>Dirk blinks, feeling completely bare. “I think some feminists would disagree.”</p><p>She snorts at his joke and shoos him back to the dining area with the dessert dishes, setting the glasses in a clean corner on the counter before transplanting the cake to its decorative stand and taking it to the table.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="pesterlog"><br/>-- tipsyGnostalgic has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="roxy">TG: yo dood hows it going</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: hope u had a good day 2day</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: i know we spoke yesterday but in the end i never got 2 wish u a proper hap bday since u bailed early lol</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: speaking of which u know im down to talk to u ab that thing u told me anytime right</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: just 2 dudes having a heart 2 heart</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: count on me bro we got ur back</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: anyway i bet u and janey r up to some sneaky bday shengnaings</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *shenangins</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *shenaniagns</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *shenanigans god damn thats one hard fckn word to write lmao</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: take care egbert u the real mvp</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: peace outttttt</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tipsyGnostalgic has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Thank god, no, <em> thank Rox </em> for this last piece of levity. It hits different, like the one tiny buoy in that huge mass of deep dark water.</p><p> </p><p>After a couple more minutes feeling sort of <em> wrecked</em>, John manages to stupidly, compulsively force himself to calm down, sitting down by the patio table, elbows on his knees propping him up, and a finger tapping over his leg. In his anxious state, his eyes dart to the door nervously every few seconds. They’re probably already waiting for him, or about to come get him, he figures, so. Come on.</p><p>…it’s ok. All this does is cement the feelings he’s been mulling over for a while now, he muses as he gets up on his feet, twisting his wrist and digging the toe of his boot in the dirt.</p><p>With his head hanging down and his hands in his pockets, he walks back towards the house. God, he could use his hoodie right about now, to be honest. He walks back in, scratching the tip of his nose nervously, only to see the cake ready for them on the table, and both his dinner companions sort of hanging together close-by while waiting for him.</p><p>“I just went out for some air,” he declares as the answer to a question no one asked. “By the way Janey, the guys said happy birthday, Jade, Roxy, Rose and Dave-” as he walks towards them, he finally catches sight of the Strider’s uncovered shining eyes, and it’s such an unexpected jump that he falters a bit, and stares blankly. “Dave… who weirdly told me... to high-five you.” </p><p>One of the corners of his mouth twists up, despite himself, and eventually he has to force his eyes to close, to break the stupid gorgeous tangerine eyes’ spell, and he chuckles breathlessly, looking back up after a second but only towards Jane. “So, birthday high-five, Jane.” As he says it, he doesn’t really move. “Just tell him I did it, if he asks. Which he won’t.”</p><p>They all take a seat circling the table once again, around the smoothly decorated and frankly delicious looking and smelling, decadent cake. It’s also pretty fucking gigantic, as usual, much more evident with the frosting finally on.</p><p>“Good lord, Janey” John deadpans. “It looks amazing but you always do this. We’re all gonna be eating cake for a week, aren’t we. Every year we gotta lose The April Ten” he rambles while they distribute fresh forks, plates, and napkins between themselves. His mouth then twitches, and he finally looks back up at the blond across him.</p><p>“Tell me the truth, Dirk. Does she also make you a thoughtful but massive confection for <em> your </em> birthday? How many pounds does she make <em> you </em>gain every year?” John crosses his arms over his chest and smirks playfully, keeping his gaze bolted square onto Dirk’s naked amber eyes.</p><hr/><p>Jane’s eyes snap up when John comes back, explaining himself. She blinks. Ah, yes. Besides their cousins, the Strider-Lalondes always remember their birthday, too. Now John has one to add to the queue, she muses to herself.</p><p>The woman also doesn’t miss the exact moment in which her brother notices her friend’s shades are gone.</p><p>“I will. Did he make any comments on my physique this time around?” She arches an eyebrow at John. By her side, Dirk rubs his temples, chuckling. There have been far too many in the past, it ends up sticking.</p><p>“I think he’s been toning down the Freudian slips as of late,” he bargains in honor of his younger brother, moving to sit at the table again.</p><p>They settle down and Jane takes up the task of cutting a piece for each. John shoots a question at Dirk and the woman smiles knowingly to herself.</p><p>The blond mirrors John’s stance, resting his elbows on the table with a small smile. “None,” he answers, meeting the sapphire gaze head-on as the man’s sister flops a piece of cake onto his plate. “It’s one of the perks of having siblings. You just drop the intel about the cake in your fridge and let Jane’s fame and the addictive properties of glucose do the rest.”</p><p>That mostly applied to when they all lived in the same household, though moving out didn’t keep Dave and Roxy from showing up mysteriously unannounced one day after his birthday to ‘hang out with our dear big bro’. Dirk didn’t mind, he would’ve probably taken a lifetime to eat it otherwise.</p><p>He likes to think he’s managed to convince Jane to not stress out over that particular endeavor now that she’s elbow-deep into corporate shit, but he’ll only be completely sure come December.</p><p>Realizing he might’ve come off as ungrateful, Dirk heaves out a sigh, gaze following the path of a piece of cake being deposited on his plate. “Truth is, I’m not that into sweets… Although I <em> have </em>fallen prey to Jane’s baking experiments in the past, some of which I haven’t recovered to this day.”</p><p>“Oh, god.” Jane laughs, serving herself last before sitting down. “He’s talking about the first — and only — time I attempted a dessert called ‘Baked Alaska’. It requires you to, well, <em> bake </em>ice-cream without melting it, then roast the meringue on the outside with a blowtorch.”</p><p>Dirk cuts out a bit and scoops it onto his fork, then slips it into his mouth. His eyes close briefly and he breathes out through his nose. Alright, dark chocolate is worth the sugar rush.</p><p>“The problem was that none of us owned a kitchen blowtorch, so we read up on how to make flambé instead,” Jane continues, taking a bite as well.</p><p>The blond’s eyes flit back open. “Got a free hair removal on my arm.”</p><p>“I’m glad nobody was home at the time, or else it might have escalated into a firefighting situation. You know how mom and pops were,” she turns to John with warmth in her aqua irises.</p><p>Then, against her will, her mouth stretches in a yawn, which she somewhat unsuccessfully covers, because it’s pretty obvious to both men she’s fucking beat. Dirk watches her as he sneaks another bit of cake into his mouth.</p><p>“By the way,” he starts, drawing the siblings’ attention to him, “what’s the deal between those trolls shitting rules for your party, Cranky Dipshit and 2010 Tumblr Catgirl?”</p><p>Jane cranks out her gossiping smile and leans forward, proceeding to coyly spill the hottest scoop in the office for her favorite people in the world to pick apart.</p><hr/><p>John failed to comment on the fact that, for once, Dave didn’t have time to spout any compromising remarks at his sister’s mention, since he was busy already correcting an anatomy-based faux pas before he even got the chance. </p><p>...also, to properly react to the adorability factor of his older brother defending him. The brunette’s still reeling from the sudden change in the tone of his interactions with Dirk, by something so simple as eliminating an accessory from in between them. It’s like talking to a whole new, 100% warmer and more expressive person, without what would generally and on anyone else be a meaningless roadblock. It occurs to John, he hasn’t really seen the blond not wearing his sunglasses in a non-sexualized context, practically. </p><p>...this morning? But he doesn’t really wanna count it.</p><p>There’s not all that much self-control left in him to summon to avoid staring at those eyes eternally like a creep, how they dart in between the siblings, how they flutter shut when he tastes Jane’s admittedly delectable cake. <em> F u c k.</em> But as the brunette absorbs their Baked Alaska story his mood switches gradually to amused, to a point where he ends up laughing heartily. “Oh shit, wow, it’s been a while since I set something on fire with a prank. Accidentally!” He chuckles as he lifts his palms up in mock surrender, “it’s been a long time since we’ve had any proper pranks, hasn’t it, that prankster’s gambit’s gotta be getting stale in the meter.” </p><p>As his food and snugness-addled brain ends up zeroing in, he does eventually remember a certain recent prank, involving an annoyingly sturdy envelope and a fuckton of glitter, plus its subsequent consequences. <em> Fiery</em>, but not literally, he muses as he wrangles his shock-compromised eyes away from Dirk, bites the inside of his own bottom lip, feeling a blush coming onto his face, and he digs his thumb and index fingers into his eyes in embarrassment. But not before catching Jane’s dramatic rise of an eyebrow in understanding that <em> something happened there</em>, oh, great. There’s no way <em>she </em>of all people is letting <em> that </em> go without any juicy details. The Prankmaster (senior).</p><p>“If I tell you there was an incident involving glitter, someone being really petty and obnoxious, and someone getting really pissed, will you promise to drop the follow-up questions? Thank you.” He nods dutifully at his sister before she even has a chance to react, declaring the case closed.</p><p>Thankfully they are able to get sidetracked a bit by giggling about the latest in the Crockercorp Douchebags Office Newsletter™️. Jane quips about the quirkiest details of their work life gleefully, perking up a bit until she again starts yawning like she hasn't slept a full night in weeks. Or like she needs a freaking week off, finally.</p><p>“God Janey, you look exhausted.” Her brother winces at her dangerously narrow-eyed response look, hopefully not precursory to some random item flying at his head. “You <em> seem </em> exhausted is what I meant, geez. It’s been... a long day.” he drawls with a tiny smirk, clutching the napkin somewhat nervously. “Shouldn’t you rest?”</p><p>...</p><p>It escaped his lips before he could even try to realize that it sounded like he’d just asked his sister to fuck off and leave them alone, his eyes widening as they snap up for an instant, then scrunching up closed coupled with a half-frustrated, half-amused snort. “Point is, I don’t want to wring every last drop out of you. At least, don’t you touch plate one again. I’ll clean up.” His blue eyes shoot back up at Dirk with an innocent expression, plus an obnoxious grin to boot. “<em> ...we’ll </em> clean up?”</p><p>“But first! I’m 21, you guys. Let’s have a hard drink to toast the naughty thrill I’ll <em> not get </em> when having drinks from now on. On me,” he jokes, and before there can be any concerned looks shot his way, he lifts up a finger and adds, “just one. One.”</p><hr/><p>Part of the reason why Dirk makes sure his eyes are shielded most of the time is this: people boggling at the freakish color of his irises, leading to some uncomfortable moments. He should be used to having John gawk at his eyes by now, but the man’s own eyes are something almost otherworldly as well, so he guesses the prickly feeling of being observed is only amplified by the deep hues of ocean blue of John’s gaze.</p><p>The blond pretends not to notice, instead going along with the conversation. Jane nods at John’s remark. “Thankfully! That is, the bit about setting something on fire. About the prankster’s gambit, we must remedy that as soon as possible, mustn’t we?”</p><p><em> And I think I might have something in store for that</em>, she thinks to herself with a devious little smile. It’s harmless, she assures.</p><p>However, as she watches the looks the two men exchange, John getting flustered and Dirk raising a skeptical brow, her curiosity gets the best of her and she locks eyes with her brother, trapping him. </p><p>She does keep her part of the ‘deal’, though, and doesn’t ask any further questions. That’s quite alright, she’ll just milk the details from Dirk later.</p><p>After some more chatting and gossiping excitedly, Jane yawns again and suddenly realizes how her eyelids feel heavy. Gosh darn it, why <em> today </em>of all days? Such a pleasant evening she’s having.</p><p>It only serves to confirm it that John calls her out on it in a not so subtle manner. Even if she’s at home with the closest people to her, looking sharp and flawless is second nature to her by now. In the corporate world, a loose tie is enough to make people look down on you… Especially if you’re a woman.</p><p>“My, John, dismissing your sister like that?” Jane laughs quietly, resting her chin on her hand. “But yeah… I think I might retire for the night soon. There’s a chance I’ll have to get up early tomorrow as well, I’m expecting a call from the regional director of finances.” She looks up at Dirk. “Feel free to hang around for as long as you want, though.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll pitch in with physical labor, then,” he jokes, agreeing with John’s suggestion. Then, after a beat of consideration, he turns to Jane. “Actually, you mind if I borrow your couch tonight?” The blond sighs, tapping his fingers on the rim of the empty wine glass. “I think there might have been too much liquor in this cake.”</p><p>The woman shakes her head. “Not at all. You can even take the guest bedroom, if you want.” She shoots a quick look at John, then straightens up. “I’ll accompany you boys, but I’m afraid I’ll have to sit out on the shots. Can’t sleep <em> too </em>deeply now, can I?”</p><p>Jane sits up. “Let’s move this to the couch, though, shall we? I have it on good authority that those seats are the best for post-meal lazy lounging.”</p><hr/><p>Yeah! Let’s go sit on the couch, come on. LET’S.</p><p>…that is, when John’s body starts responding again from the 408 Request Timeout error it went into when Jane offered Dirk <em> the guest room </em> for the night. Since that self-directive command attempt didn’t seem to work.</p><p>There’s only <em> one guest bedroom </em> in this house, a fact that his sister should probably be acquainted with, since it’s <em> her goddamn fucking house</em>. One. The one that John’s been sleeping in for the past week or so. God fucking dammit, Jane. Props for subtle deviousness, but holy shit. Come on.</p><p>He guesses he could just… take the couch and leave Dirk the room, yeah, that would do, he doesn’t mind, everything worked out, no problem whatsoever. Done, case closed.</p><p>…unless?</p><p>Nope nope <em> nope</em>, his body finally shoots up from the chair at that train of thought that he’s definitely not supposed to be having, not with the current state of things. No, bad Egbert, bad.</p><p>Hopefully the debauchery included in that nanosecond-long flash of a mental image he just had doesn’t show on his face. Or anywhere else, for that godforsaken matter. Augh. This might still be a very long night.</p><p>Thankfully, the two friends are already settled on the couch chatting quietly, and reaching for a couple of bottles Jane keeps in a tray by the corner sofa as a makeshift bar. Like a good, proper, high-class host. <em> Geez</em>.</p><p>As John joins them, plopping down casually in the corner right in between them, he looks around the boozy selection, decides he’s had enough whiskey for several whole lifetimes, and his curious eyes land on a bottle of sake instead. She has the appropriate serving set, after all. He pours himself a shot, and, since his sister declined the nightcap, lifts the bottle up towards Dirk, in a silent offering motion.</p><hr/><p>“…so, because of that, they’ve decided to do only one instead of splitting it into two parts,” Jane finishes the current subject, leaning sideways on the couch with her legs crossed.</p><p>Dirk is sitting on the other section, one arm on the back and the other resting beside his thigh. “Damn, have they learned nothing at all from watching other adaptations exactly like that get roasted to ashes by the critic? Well, I won’t hold my breath for that one.”</p><p>Then, John joins them. As in, joins the very remaining space between them on the couch. Under Dirk’s arm. Shit.</p><p>Should he move it? It will be pretty obvious. Might make things awkward again. Then again, what if John is uncomfortable? Or what if Jane gets the wrong impression…?</p><p>While his mind sailed away, the man had offered him…sake? Oh well.</p><p>Dirk grabs the <em>ochoko</em> and extends it for John to pour it out. The brief silence feels a little loaded with how close they’re sitting, so his mouth does something funny: “Did you know ‘sake’ in Japanese actually means booze in general? Sake itself has another name.” </p><p>And then he busies his mouth with drinking so he’ll shut the fuck up.</p><p>Jane yawns yet again. “Yet you vehemently rejected the title of nerd in the past.”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything, what with the way the woman’s looking at him with some amount of fondness he’s not used to processing. She seems satisfied enough, because after some more idle comments, she stretches high over her head and sits up.</p><p>“Alright, boys, I suppose I’ll leave you to your own devices and cleaning arrangements. You both know where everything is, I assume.” Jane gets up, straightening her dress, even if it’s just the three of them here and she’s about to go to bed. Then, she perks up again for a second. “Oh, John! I almost forgot about your present!”</p><p>The tone of her voice makes Dirk’s eyebrows twitch into a quasi-frown, but he just watches as she circles the couch and taps her heels up to her bedroom. He and John exchange a somewhat preoccupied look before she comes back down with a sleek, dark gift bag and hands it to her brother.</p><p>“Happy birthday.” She leans down and plants a kiss on his head. “Hope it serves you well,” she says with a smile that makes a distant ping go on in Dirk’s head. Jesus christ.</p><p>“Good night, gentlemen.” Jane steps back. “Try not to get <em> too </em>wild, please.”</p><p>Despite the blush threatening to creep onto his face, Dirk smiles at her, eyes helping convey the genuine emotion behind the words. “Thanks for the invite, Jane.”</p><p>“It’s our pleasure. See you tomorrow.” And then she sashays away to her room.</p><p>Great. Now Dirk has to deal with his thoughts and John, <em> alone</em>. Alright, he’s a grown man, he can… talk… about stuff. Sure. It’s no big deal.</p><p>Nevermind that his body feels hot while he’s close to the brunette currently struggling to open the inner wrapping of his gift, tongue poking out from his mouth in concentration.</p><p>Yeah, he’s definitely drunk more than he intended. Again. Maybe he needs to go clean for some time lest he falls into a bad habit.</p><p>The blond leans forward and places his <em>ochoko</em> on the table. “If you’re planning on calling a car home, I can clean up here. You and Jane shouldn’t have worked so much for your own birthday dinner. It’s poor etiquette, apparently.”</p><hr/><p>Everything is peaches and cream. The spot on the couch John mindlessly (or subconsciously) chose, and that is definitely not <em> way too close </em> to Dirk, the nervous Strideresque ramblings of the blond as he pours him some <em> Japanese booze</em>, that are not <em> gut-wrenchingly endearing</em>, the gift his sister Jane brings him, that has no ominous quality to it whatsoever, and doesn’t make the boys exchange a look of potential horror. Nothing tense here, what tension?? </p><p>It’s not like his own sister <em> dropped a bomb and left </em> by insinuating things were about to go down between the two men, even though they’ve both barely dared to talk or even look at each other most of the night. Nooo, none of that is thickening the air around them and making it hard to breathe. What are you talking about.</p><p>…let’s just get this over with and open this thing. John pulls the package open with a totally normal face that is absolutely not a dorktastic Gir-like gesture of concentration, narrative hijacking notwithstanding.</p><p>“Aw what?!” His face lights up in a beaming grin. “Pac-man pjs? Oh god, they look like they’re cozy as hell AND have the potential to burn your retinas with those eye-searing 80s colors,” he chuckles. “That’s awesome, thanks, Janey” he chants, even though she’s gone. Next come out some frankly adorable slash preposterous Pac-man ghost shaped slippers in mismatched colors. <em> One is Inky and one is Blinky, </em> John’s memory supplies because he’s an insufferable ghost nerd. “Good lord, these look ridiculous. I shall never stop using them.” He smirks amusedly at them, but his face falls quickly in concentration when he detects something inside one of the shoes.</p><p>…there’s a small dark item, with a ribbon tied around it in a bow. John can’t really tell what the soft but compressed object is, so he pulls the tie undone with ease, unraveling the bundle, to find himself holding and looking at… a…</p><p>It…</p><p>It’s-</p><p>He currently can’t believe his eyes, which widen wildly in shock, except he absolutely can because his sister used that sweet murderous tone that means you’re getting gently screwed and he's never been more certain she both loves her and hates her with all his might.</p><p>What John Egbert is holding at present, hanging hooked from both sides on each of his thumbs, is indeed a sleek modern, velvety, dark blue jockstrap.</p><p>…</p><p>After blinking at it for who knows how long, he turns it around, because his eyes might still be deceiving him, is it really-OH SHIT YES IT IS, it most certainly goddamn motherfucking is. </p><p>Still holding it up, John turns to look wide-eyed and dumbfounded at the blond for a few long seconds, and finally and utterly <em> erupts </em>in laughter. After a good fit he manages to go back to breathing, takes off his glasses, wipes a couple tears off, then lowers his hands back onto his lap.</p><p>“This has been the strangest day of my life. And I once almost fell off a fire escape during sex.” He momentarily hides his tomato-red face into his hand, quite uselessly, because the blush extends all over his ears, scalp and down his neck.</p><p>“You know… I think I’m starting to understand your friendship <em> a lot better</em>,” John snorts. “My sister is one of the most ruthless people I know, and she just set you up. With the <em> guest room offer</em>.” The brunette looks up at Dirk amused, to elaborate. “That’s… my room, I’ve been sleeping in there since last week. After… you know, The Great Meltdown of 2020™️, I… we both decided that it’d be better if I didn’t stay in that house, alone, for a day longer. So I’ve been her temporary roommate for a while now. I actually found myself a place, so I’ll be moving in a few days. I guess… we’ll sell the old house. We’ll see.” He rubs the back of his neck thoughtfully, face a little more somber, but then looks back up at Dirk and perks up again.</p><p>…then his whole expression twists into a very cheeky, smirking, teasing one.</p><p>“So yeah. Consider yourself properly owned. She got you good.” A flash of recognition finally sparks through his eyes. “Or… both of us. She got us both good, okay. Fuck. Double whammy. Good job, Jane, all the prankster’s gambit to you. Still the master, I see.”</p><hr/><p>The blond watches in a pleasant haze as John eagerly opens his gift. For a moment, he stares unabashedly at him, until he remembers he hasn’t got his shades on and collects himself, turning away.</p><p>He does chuckle at the brunette’s excitement upon getting pajamas, but, to be honest, they have a theme going on, it’s not so bad. Tomorrow he’ll abjure the very notion that he actually thought that, but for now he can let himself consider it.</p><p>Suddenly, John goes quiet, so Dirk turns to look and--</p><p>--holy fuck.</p><p>“Oh hell no.” The blond grimaces, but then John starts laughing and he feels his wince dissolve into a smirk. </p><p>“I mean, <em> spicy</em>, but weirdly specific a choice for a gift for your sibling,” Dirk jests, resting back on his seat.</p><p>He listens to John’s explanation and nods, expression neutral. The guy seems to be going through a whole makeover in his life. It’s pretty admirable, actually. “I see. It seems you two have been busy.”</p><p>Dirk’s lips curl into a smirk, his face lax. “But what makes you think this was unaccounted for?"</p><hr/><p>… </p><p>John turns his amazed eyes to the blond, his face frozen in an expression halfway through amusement and bewilderment. His heart definitely doesn’t jump in his chest when the blond looks back into him directly, with those molten eyes, unabashed. </p><p>“Are you really telling me that you conspired with my sister to <em> trick me into sharing my bed? </em> I thought better of you, Dirk. And I mean because it’s <em> such a cliché</em>,” he chuckles. “It’s basically the old <em> oh no the hotel made a mistake with the reservation so now we have to share the same room, oh em gee </em> <b> <em>wonk</em></b>!I mean there’s barely any twist, it’s not so original. Sorry to be so blunt-” John keeps beaming at the blond with no restraint now, comforted by their easy back and forth, and the lulling buzz of too much food and a fair amount of alcohol dulling down his nervousness and fear.</p><p>Resting his elbow on his knee, and his chin on that hand, subsequently, he teases him back. “So, what exactly was the endgame there? Did you also have something to do with this surprise gift, was it all part of one same bigger and shiftier plot?” He playfully sticks his tongue out at him.</p><hr/><p>Dirk chuckles, bending his arm on the back of the couch to rest his head on his fist. “Well the twist can be that I actually take the couch. It’s your call.”</p><p>His eyes are droopy from the alcohol and the pleasant evening buzz in his body. Maybe this doesn’t have to be hard and awkward?</p><p>Who is he kidding. It’s always as bad as he imagines it.</p><p>“Nah, man. I was totally out of the loop for this. I hadn’t spoken to Jane ever since this morning’s episode of some platonic version of <em> Cheaters.</em>” He reaches over and takes the jockstrap in hand, tugging to test the elasticity. It’s of good quality.</p><p>“I’m starting to believe you were the one with the plan to get me inebriated enough to crash.” He raises an eyebrow at him.</p><hr/><p>Someone’s deep blue-eyed gaze is getting… intense, as this train of conversation <strike>escalates</strike> progresses. </p><p>“…fine, you can have the bed.” John's voice comes out soft and honeyed, his half-lidded look, flirty without his knowledge.</p><p>“Sorry if… about Jane. I hope it wasn’t that… bumpy. I can’t see her being mad at you, though. Honestly I think she was mostly…” he sports a toothy smirk as his eyebrow raises quizzically. “…kind of psyched actually? Hahaha! And… then a bit worried. But that’s just, you know. <em> Baby brother syndrome</em>. I guess that’s never going to go awa-” the sentence cuts <em> right the fuck off </em> as Dirk’s hand approaches his lap, making him tense <em> right the fuck up</em>, and he takes the piece of underwear off his thighs using only his index and middle fingers. Then plays with it in those delectable hands of is. <em> Gulp</em>. Which equals <em> ’JOHN EGBERT used SWALLOW. But it failed.’ </em></p><p>“You… you like it?” <em> FUCK</em>, he just made himself jump with that. “I mean, you can borrow it?” he snorts, his mouth a little too dry, his voice a little too hoarse.</p><p>Trying to breathe normally again, John considers the blond’s last question. Yes, it sounded like a question. He watches the other man’s freckled face, carefully.</p><p>“…honestly. I wouldn’t trick you. Plus I think we both know the dangers of doing reckless shit under too much influence.” Or do they? It’s not like… there’s exactly <em> regrets </em> in the back of his mind. But… </p><p>The brunette huffs softly, feeling some resignation coming. Some sobering up, too, if mostly metaphorical. “Some moments are worth keeping your mind clear for, I think. Especially when it’s <em> so tempting </em> to do exactly the opposite. I’ve actually learned a lot about that lately, so. The lesson’s sort of fresh on my mind.” John’s fingers play with his glasses, still sitting on his lap, his eyes unguarded for the moment.</p><p>“So.” His mouth twists into a cocky smirk. “Want another drink?”</p><hr/><p>“Don’t worry about Jane. Also, this isn’t really my style,” the blond snorts, then drops the underwear back onto John’s lap.</p><p>Dirk mostly listens to the brunette’s musings, humming in consideration when appropriate.</p><p>“Think I’ll pass this time. I still want to remember this evening in the morning.” He looks up from where he’d been staring at the coffee table and meets John’s eyes. Instinctively, he shoves his hands in his jacket’s pockets, fiddling with a small object in one of them.</p><p>“…We should probably tidy up.”</p><hr/><p>Fair enough?</p><p>John considers everything that’s happened up until this point, how easy it would be to forget it in the comfortability-plagued moment, to reach out physically rather than any other more compromising way. To touch him, to slide onto his lap, to kiss him, fervently. Heavily suspecting how much the blond would neglect to resist it. <em> Giving in</em>, sweet and mindless and delicious. On this plush couch, together, warm. Never wanting to move off it again.</p><p>Tempting, so, so tempting, and… appetizing. Exquisite. And other pseudosynonyms. It would be so easy, all mental gymnastics would melt away and get washed off by the tide of Dirk’s lips, Dirk’s arms, Dirk’s body, his hands, his smell, his voice. </p><p>…</p><p>It truly stings within John's chest, how much he’s unable to go on like this.</p><p><em> Goddammit</em>.</p><p>“Ok.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter has <a href="https://shinjukusdevil.tumblr.com/post/632103052568035328/i-took-so-long-to-draw-this-that-i-thought-i-might">art by Max</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So sorry for the delay in posting this one!! Hope you guys like it, though! ;D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few short minutes pass between picking up plates and silverware, putting leftovers away (cake for a year, yippee) and generally making the place presentable. It’s definitely not distracting to watch Dirk’s gloveless hands soaking in the warm water, his relaxed expression, or the looks they cross in between them every now and then.</p><p>Soon enough they’re all but done. And it feels nerve-wracking. Because there’s pending business, and John knows it. Dirk also knows it, he’s sure of it, he’s not a goddamn idiot.</p><p>The brunette sits on one of the dinner table chairs, briefly, to collect himself. Musing. Gathering up some… courage? Swallowing with difficulty, and taking a deep breath, before addressing Dirk’s silhouette, still with his back turned to him facing the counter. He thinks. His glasses are still in his pocket. Shit's blurry as hell from a distance.</p><p>“How about… we go outside for some air, for just a minute. I could use some fresh air to be honest.” Not risking the dangers of getting a negative answer, or some other sort of different, distracting approach, John gets up on his feet, tugs timidly on Dirk’s hand and drags him outside gently. </p><p>It’s gotten cold, and he shivers. It’s hard to let go of that hand, but John knows he might not be able to focus on what’s on his mind if he doesn’t. Because he’ll want to squeeze it tighter. And then… keep touching. Letting his hands travel.</p><p>Instead, he mindlessly takes out the crinkly packet out of his jeans’ pocket, his lighter, and swiftly lights up a cigarette that hangs sort of shaky from his mouth. A long drag later, a deeply-held breath, and a puff of mint-scented smoke later, he finally gets it together long enough to talk.</p><p>“I…” he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, for good measure. It’s hard to look up at the Strider, his eyes insist on staying glued to the ground, but he forces himself to face him.</p><p>
  <em> God, those tangerine eyes in the moonlight. </em>
</p><p>“I wanted to tell you… something.”</p>
<hr/><p>The housekeeping duties serve as an appropriate cooldown into what Dirk knows to be coming. They parted on unresolved terms this morning and it’s no longer an option to ignore the brunette, so he supposes he has to come clean about… some things.</p><p>It could surely be in a less dramatic setting, though. His hands are still wet when John pulls him out into the patio and releases him to--</p><p>“You <em> smoke</em>?” Dirk snorts and looks away, not really expecting an answer. Figures, what with Jane’s filthy habit of not-so-secretly lighting cigars every once in a while. He saw her smoke an actual pipe once.</p><p>Instead of nagging, the blond takes a few steps and leans on the wall, propping a foot back on it and crossing his arms. It’s a little hard to keep his eyes on John when his pulse is being so annoyingly loud, but drowsiness and alcohol can give him enough cover, he supposes.</p><p>“Go ahead,” he says in what is intended as a casual tone.</p>
<hr/><p>The brunette joins him against the wall, leaning a bit angled on his shoulder so they can talk, but not facing each other directly.</p><p>“Roxy” spills out of John’s mouth together with the aforementioned smoke, before he can even begin to think about stopping himself. Shit. “Oh, shit.” He cringes, and his wary eyes shoot up to meet Dirk’s. “Please, <em> please </em> don’t ride her for this, she… she’s been such a good friend to me, Dirk. You have no idea.” His eyes dart back and forth, pensively. “…ok, maybe you <em> do have some idea</em>. But seriously, please. For me?” He dedicates him a bit of the good old begging puppy eyes.</p><p>“’sides, she’s not even smoking anymore. I guess it started back when she had um, you know. A bit of a day-drinking problem?” That’s putting it sort of mildly, but he’d rather go with that. “And I guess it was easy to slip into other vices. Also, programmers can get really stressed out, did you know that?” John snorts as he smirks at the older man. “And I was hanging around with her at the time, so… we kind of got into that together. But she quit.” He takes another drag, then regards the cigarette held in between his index and middle fingers. “I mean. I guess I also quit. For a while. But eh. It’s been kinda rocky lately.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “Better than bourbon. And hey, they’re menthols. Fresher and healthier than a stick of gum. Definitely!” he jokes. </p><p>Then he puffs once more, deep, with his eyes closed, trying to quell the knot of anxiety currently residing right in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>“Okay. I’m just. Gonna get some things off my chest, hope you can bear with me.” His eyes dart up to the side to meet his, apprehensive and looking for some kind of confirmation, only to drop back down almost immediately on instinct. </p><p>He intends to focus, but all of a sudden thoughts get convoluted inside his brain again, they tangle with each other. Stupid free-flowing, breezy ass mind. Now it’s going on some sort of unrelated tangent.</p><p>
  <em> Is it? </em>
</p><p>“You know, it was cool to hang with you and Jane at the same time tonight, and. I don’t know. Get to see you guys interact. She's so great. I'm glad you got each other.” Out of the blue, John pouts. “Man… now I miss Rose. She sent me a really nice message today. Not incisive, not snarky… not that I mind that at all, cause she’s great the way she is. But instead it was just. Sweet. ”</p><p>...</p><p>
  <em> That was it. Sort of? </em>
</p><p>“Can I ask you something dumb? Did you ever, like... kiss my sister, or something like that? Just to see if it. Worked? Like… a harmless experiment.</p><p>...</p><p>“...that's what it was like for Rose and me. Except... we got in way over our heads, instead.”</p><p>There’s a silence John uses as a pause, staying pensive, his eyes low and rather somber.</p><p>“It's like... something you're supposed to do, that everyone has to go through, everybody has relationships right? And you get in one with this great person that you like so much, who's your best friend, and it's just... strangely unnatural. But how do you know it's not supposed to be like that? Maybe this is what everybody feels like?” He takes a long, frustrated pull off the cigarette.</p><p>“...and you kinda get used to it, go through the motions together, and you're cool because you care about each other either way and have a good time as a pair. But after a while, people start asking you things, how far you've gone, the next step, how things are going. The pressure is there and you don't understand why it's <em> pressure </em> instead of a natural progression, and there's no <em> drive </em>behind it, or is it like this for everyone? How do you know if you never try at all?”</p><p>“So you make a decision together, and you do… <em> try</em>, and it still doesn't work. And you start thinking there's just... something wrong with you. And then you flip a switch, and think there's something wrong with <em> being with this particular person</em>, cause if you admit it's you, you have to wonder <em> why</em>, and there are some conclusions you're just infinitely unready to face, so you just pretend you weren't right for each other all along. </p><p>At least that's what I did, because I'm... an idiot. I know that's not what Rose did. She knew immediately what was up, with both of us. And she especially knew I would never be receptive to hear it from her back then. So she moved on and accepted herself and grew, and I didn't. I didn't.” </p><p>His gaze, unfocused, follows the lazy flow of the smoke in the crisp night air.</p><p>“I didn't even acknowledge it. I just kept hating myself in silence, if I hadn't fall ass-backwards into some irrefutable facts I would still be pretending not to be a barely-there fucking shadow of a person. Out of cowardice.”</p><p>“Here's why I never dared talking about Rose and me. And it's not because I regret any time we spent together, hanging out and supporting each other, loving each other, in our own way, the only way we were capable of. It's because when all was said and done, she got something out of it, insights, catharsis, pride, and I just kept withering slowly out of shame and fear.” Ashes fall, unattended, in a long string on the patio tiles.</p><p>“I resented her, for a very long time, because she managed to be strong, become a better person, and be proud of who she was, who she <em> is</em>. And I just... cowered, like a bitch. I'd still be hiding from everyone, from myself, from <em> it</em>, if it hadn't been for...”</p><p>“You.”</p><p>...</p><p>“I don't know if there's an endgame for this diatribe, sorry it got kinda heavy,” he chortles. “I just. Really wanted to tell you. Because...”</p><p>John turns his blue gaze up, at the bright white full moon.</p><p>...</p><p>“Whatever happens… thank you.”</p>
<hr/><p>The chilly night air is a nice anchor to ground Dirk into the present. It’s all too easy to get lost inside his head in moments he has to coordinate several tasks at once. Without his shades, he feels shifty, like his skin is burning under the sun, except it’s just because he’s <em> visible</em>, which is a highly irrational thought Dirk constantly has to kick back into the closet.</p><p>They’re off to a great start, he muses when John just blurts out his younger sister’s name. Dirk frowns sideways at him, remaining silent throughout the brunette’s elaboration.</p><p>Yeah, he figures Roxy must’ve had some… additional vices back then, but he likes to think they’ve managed to whip her back into sobriety by now, especially after one emotional night that ended with a rare StriLonde physical group display of affection. Which is a convoluted way to say they talked and hugged it out.</p><p>Dirk has a few qualms about cigarettes being <em> fresher and healthier</em>, but withholds them in favor of allowing John to continue. If he does, that is, because the blond knows he’s stalling.</p><p>His eyes fall on a chair nearby. Dirk likes to think of himself as a good listener, if not the best of friends. He’s not even sure if that’s what they are right now.</p><p>…This talk isn’t going the way he expected at all.</p><p>When John asks if he’s <em> kissed his sister</em>, Dirk looks back at him with a slightly constipated face. Does the guy actually <em> understand </em>the shit he’s saying or is this just not a problem for him at all?</p><p>But fine, he seems to be getting somewhere important to him. The blond takes a deep, silent breath, looking up at the dark sky as he listens.</p><p>The more John talks, though, the more Dirk feels like he shouldn’t be hearing this. Like it’s too intimate and he should turn away, even if John is the one voluntarily telling him about his late process of self-discovery. </p><p>And yet, despite his best efforts, Dirk Strider finds himself warming up to John Egbert.</p><p>He talks about Rose and Dirk can understand why he felt like he was scrambling behind, because that’s exactly the effect Rose has on other people. It seems unfair to compare anyone else to her. She and John grew up in completely different households and have had to bear very different expectations for their lives. Perhaps that’s something he should mention whenever he gets his cue to talk.</p><p>Then, something more disturbing steals his focus.</p><p>John is <em> thanking </em>him.</p><p>Has the guy been brain-washed or just forgotten about what went down at his own house?</p><p>…</p><p>This… is definitely not how this is supposed to go.</p><p>John’s voice dies down and the space falls into silence for a while. Dirk doesn’t meet his eyes as he mulls over his words, arms tightening over his chest.</p><p>Finally, Dirk sighs.</p><p>“Much as the idea of prompting your sexual awakening flatters me, John, I didn’t exactly do it out of goodwill. I’m sure you must know that,” he shoots him a flat look. “That said, you shouldn’t thank me for giving in to some alcohol-induced impulse and screwing you on a fire escape.”</p><p>What else? Oh, right.</p><p>“Just to be clear,” Dirk starts, “I don’t hate you, John, and, despite some ridiculously exaggerated reactions I might have had in the past, I don’t hold on to any leftover grudges from your relationship with Rose.” He tilts his head, biting the inside of his cheek. “She’s talked to me enough to ascertain that.”</p><p>A pause follows, in which Dirk ponders what to say, whether he <em> should </em>say anything. What he’s willing to say…</p><p>…What needs to be said.</p><p>“It’s inevitable to learn things about yourself by interacting with others. That’s how you start predicting possibilities for future reference, too. As for me, my preferences were reasonably clear to me since I was a kid, which basically means I started getting shit for it early on in life.” He snorts bitterly. “The wonderful social mechanisms of regulating power by demanding conformation to the norm, right?”</p><p>The blond uncrosses his arms to tuck them beside his back and tap idly on the wall. “So even if I hadn’t conducted experiments about it, I would still have been pretty fucking sure I’m not into women. It was never a big deal personally, but most people around me seemed to zero in on the fact that I didn’t give two shits about looking up girls’ skirts. Because surely there is no matter of greater relevance to a man’s existence than with whom he crawls into bed.”</p><p>The spite in his words is palpable, which means it’s time to change the subject. Dirk allows his shoulders to slump a little more and looks down at John again, taking in his silhouette under the moonlight, the comfortable stance, the hand holding the cigarette.</p><p>“So, now that you’ve had some light shed on your own psyche, what are you planning to do?”</p>
<hr/><p>John’s obviously serious buck-toothed overbite begins gradually twisting into a smirk, as soon as the blond starts talking and <em> immediately </em> misses some key points in the tone of his previous, admittedly rambling discourse. It gets even wider, when the blond ascertains him that <em> he doesn’t hate him</em>.</p><p><em> He’s so ridiculous</em>. That shouldn’t be so appealing, by the way. Yet it is. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying. Everything this man does.</p><p>It’s not like John expected a <em> reciprocity</em>, steeping in the way Dirk does his best to share part of his own history, which. Is. Endearing, but unnecessary. He vaguely wishes the blond would just take the damn thank you and run with it, but no matter. John's heart didn’t just stop there for a minute anyways, he must have imagined it.</p><p>Still, he lets him say it, of course. Dirk’s tone suggests he could really use some venting, as much as he might be unaware that he’s doing just that, and John’s only happy to provide. He listens carefully, and then lets some time pass between the bitter Strider words, and his next. Let the air clear. </p><p>The blond is looking down at him with those shining eyes, and he refuses to not look into them unabashed at this moment. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette, taking the moment, and every one of the Strider’s chipped features slowly in.</p><p>John Egbert ponders. Measures. <em> Calculates</em>. He possibly, maybe wonders if kissing him wouldn’t make things clearer.</p><p>“God, you really do think too fucking much, don’t you.” A playful wink joins his smile. The irony is a bit lost on him, at the moment.</p><p>…</p><p>Then, he promptly decides <em> THIS IS STUPID </em> and just resolves to talk from his heart, and spill anything that comes to mind. If he’s gonna fuck everything he cares about right here and now he might as well do it honestly. It’s not like there’s been a single <em> safe </em>way to proceed between the two of them so far.</p><p>“What I’m gonna do… that really… depends. I guess I’m still deciding on a lot of things.” He regards the blond thoughtfully, with soft eyes. “If you’d like to know, I have no prospects right now, life-directionways. Nothing concrete, at least. But… that’s not what you actually want to know, is it.”</p><p>John smiles, way too relaxed for this, weirdly feeling like he’s already going limp, bracing for an impact. “Would you like me to be… completely honest? Because that’s the way I roll. At least consciously. And that’s the way I want people to be with me, in return, too.” He carefully watches for Dirk’s reaction.</p>
<hr/><p>“It’s not that I think too much as it’s that most people think too little,” Dirk shoots back as he gazes vacantly at a concrete corner, rocking his body forwards and backwards against the wall.</p><p>He stops moving when John calls him out on his underlying question.</p><p>Well. Time to reap what he’s sown.</p><p>Dirk turns to him, facing John properly while leaning sideways on the wall, arms loosely crossed over his chest. “That’s a hard bargain you’re driving there, Egbert,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow with an otherwise neutral expression.</p>
<hr/><p>Good. John’s smile widens after Dirk turns to him, whether it’s the closeness of the situation, or an attempt to soften this strangling kind of tension, he’s not quite sure. (It’s both.)</p><p>
  <em> God, he’d like to touch him so fucking bad right now. </em>
</p><p>…he really, desperately prays that he hasn’t touched Dirk for the last time.</p><p>“You know, once I asked your twin about you, out of pure curiosity because let’s face it, you’re objectively the most mysterious of the StriLondes. She said something along the lines of…” He pokes his own front teeth with the tip of his finger, deep in thought. “<em>I regard him with fond exasperation</em>.” John snorts warmly at the memory, Rose’s snarky eyebrow-raised face included. “I, um. Back then I thought it was a twins thing, but. I’m kinda relating to that lately.” He looks at Dirk intently, smirking. “The exasperation… and the fondness.”</p><p>“…so I guess I’ll have to go with I <em> also regard you with fond exasperation</em>.”</p><p>…</p><p>“You know, Dirk… I feel like you’re the type of person who looks at someone, sees them twitch their eye, and decides they’re judging you, or that they hate you, or they’re thinking less of you for some circuitous reason, when the dry reality is they’re just… spacing out about needing to buy bread and milk later.”</p><p>John makes a point to look him right in the eye, fixed and intensely, whether he means it to be to or not.</p><p>“Dirk. I think I was spacing out, and you managed to read a billion things in me. But I just needed bread and butter,” John snorts.</p><p>“I didn’t <em> need </em>any more or less than we were doing, really. I wasn’t gonna ask you for a commitment, I wasn’t gonna nag you to meet my parents… well,” his eyes roll of his own accord. “If I had them. Or, I dunno. Argue with you about how to raise the kids.” He chuckles breathlessly, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just. Liked hanging out with you. I simply like you, idiot.” He smirks nervously.</p><p>“…but you don’t draw me in with one hand and push me away with the other.” His shoulders shrug. “It’s not fair.”</p><p>“And… you can’t pretend that you’re not interested in me or that you don’t care for me at all, because I know that’s not <em> true</em>.” That last word comes on a little too sharp, a little too loud and he knows it. John winces and swallows at it, and almost mutters the word <em> sorry</em>. But he doesn’t. His voice softens considerably though.</p><p>“…is it? Do you want me to actually go away? Because if you do, now is the time to tell me, sincerely, not… a week from now, or a month, or ten impersonal fucks down the line or whatever the hell happens.”</p><p>He looks up at the older man’s shadowy face with expectant bright eyes, swallowing, and desperately tries to ignore the cannonball weight he feels at the pit of his stomach.</p>
<hr/><p>The way John is talking calmly while being overall relaxed makes it seem like he’s talking to a child. Admittedly, Dirk does feel like he’s on the lower side here, as if being reprimanded for his behavior by a lenient parent.</p><p>His chest feels tight, but he counts the beat through his inhales and exhales to pace himself. Regrettably, his mouth now tastes like metal from the open cuts inside his cheek, and there are no plans of that stopping in the immediate future.</p><p>Dirk snorts at Rose’s description of him because he’s even heard it himself, listening silently as he watches John’s peeking teeth while he speaks. He sees where this is going.</p><p>His suspicions are confirmed when John stresses the <em> fondness </em>part. The way he’s looking at Dirk makes the blond squirm internally, his hands itching for his shades. It takes all of his will to not turn away from the brunette.</p><p>The ‘t<em>ype of person</em>’ John describes makes his eyebrow twitch, especially since he knows from experience he’s right more often than not about people’s intentions. John is the one with an overly simplistic, <em> optimistic </em>approach on that.</p><p>Which is why he doesn’t really believe it when John says he ‘simply likes’ him.</p><p>Rose ‘regards him with fond exasperation’ because she’s his twin sister. They were born and raised together and took to each other like a lifeline due to their living arrangements. For some time, they were all they had to deal with their shared problems, which is why she’s able to regard him with <em> fond </em>exasperation.</p><p>Whatever. In any case, it’s convenient that John isn’t really asking for anything too serious.</p><p>Dirk does look away. “You’re right, it’s not true.”</p><p>He thinks of their most recent encounters, namely the last few days. John is an entertaining enough partner, even if a little nosy sometimes. Takes after his sister.</p><p>This shouldn’t be as hard as it is.</p><p>“You’re not as bad as I originally thought, John, even if you’re still a bastard.” Dirk shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What can I say, birds of a feather flock together, or something equally analogical and ornithologically simplistic.”</p><p>“I did tell you to go away, though,” he continues, finally looking down at his glistening eyes. “Several times, even, if I recall correctly. Seems like it wasn’t very effective.”</p><p>The blond shrugs, working his posture into a relaxed stance. “Works for me, though, since that status is outdated.”</p><p>From the way John is looking at him, he hasn’t given an appropriate answer. So much for trying to play it cool. Dirk heaves out the sigh of a retired warrior.</p><p>“No, idiot, I don’t.” He slumps his body sideways, an exasperated look on his half-lidded eyes. “Otherwise I would have kicked you out of my house while you were still catching your breath yesterday.”</p>
<hr/><p>John reels a bit from the onslaught. And by a bit, what he really means but doesn’t want to think out loud is <em> that shot an arrow through his chest</em>. God, the Strider is so sharp-edged. Well. He guesses he <em> did </em>ask for sincerity, after all. Plus… that was honestly the softest thing he was prepared to hear tonight.</p><p>Still really fucking hurts, somehow.</p><p>“Ok, that’s… good to hear?” His tone couldn’t have sounded more unsure if he had tried deliberately. “Can I ask something else, then?” He doesn’t wait for an actual answer to that, this time. He just continues with his eyes fixed on Dirk’s chest. “How come you telling me not to go away…<em> eventually</em>,”  his eyebrow raises significantly, “makes me… feel good. Yeah. Happy-” he confesses, in for a penny, in for a pound. “And yet. I don’t know, you still look sort of. Miserable. Kind of really miserable, actually.” John looks up at him now with sadness in his eyes. “I don’t want to make you miserable.”</p><p>“Also… mixed messages are kind of exhausting.” He doesn’t even care how his voice sort of falters there. “I mean, what the hell am I even supposed to think, if you point out that you<em> did tell me to go away </em> but I didn’t? What fucking conclusion should I extract from that? That you <em> actually wish that I was gone</em>, but you’re not-” all the possibilities run through his mind, and none of them are painless. God, he just needs to know, something, <em> anything</em>, besides <em> I don’t want to be away from you completely</em>, because that was plenty obvious when they kept meeting halfway to… <em> somewhere</em>, over and over again.</p><p>“It can’t possibly be this hard, come on. It’s not like I’d want any more than you would want to give.” Is that the problem? “I… want to be with you? And so I want you to <em> want </em>to be with me.” His eyes flutter and blink a little extra tight, and he swallows. Hard.</p><p>It’s amazing, how Dirk’s words are doubly hope-inducing and absolutely horrible and terrifying. John’s brain wants to scream, wring out the emotional whiplash and end this already, one way or the other. Amazing and horrible and terrifying.</p><p>“Just. Put me out of my misery here, Dirk.”</p><p>The brunette glares up into tangerine eyes, steadying, huffing some air out in metaphorical refuse to go down so easily. Equally anxious and hopeful. He just wishes it was only one of the two, at least for once.</p><p>“Or. You can just kiss me and shut me up, like you did last night. And avoid saying it.” His jaw tenses up as his teeth grind down.</p><p>“…but then you gotta stick by that kiss afterwards.” He doesn’t move, but he finally wrenches his ocean-deep eyes from the blond and looks away.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Miserable? </em>
</p><p>…He should’ve refused to hand over his shades to Jane.</p><p>Dirk can feel his building frustration mirrored in John’s tone. He crosses his arms over his chest again and his brow furrows decimally.</p><p>
  <em> ‘It can’t possibly be this hard.’ </em>
</p><p>It isn’t, really. But it also isn’t hard to pick up on it. Why does Dirk have to fucking spell everything out for him?</p><p>
  <em> ‘It’s not like I’d want any more than you would want to give.’ </em>
</p><p>You’re doing it right now.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Or you can just kiss me and shut me up, like you did last night. And avoid saying it.’ </em>
</p><p>It sounds like a dare to Dirk’s ears and grates on his nerves. Like he can’t do something as simple as say a string of words.</p><p>For someone who values honesty, though, isn’t that kind of contradictory? That he’s being pressured to voice something so specific?</p><p><em> I want to be with you</em>. It sounds unnecessary.</p><p>Besides, with all this build-up, it would end up being pretty ridiculous. There are about seventeen less dramatic and grandiose ways of conveying that, none of which apply to this moment.</p><p>Dirk turns away to burn a hole into the wall with his gaze. “Are you sure you’re not asking for commitment here, John?” He wrenches his eyes back to the brunette, his expression a little harder than minutes ago. “Because unless you do, I don’t see what kind of further confirmation you need that we enjoy each other’s company. It should be enough to know I don’t do anything I don’t want to and that I’m here right now.”</p>
<hr/><p>Only the wind rustling in the leaves can be heard for a while. It’s a placid, gentle sound in the quiet of the southern night, if you closed your eyes and simply listened, you could easily fool yourself into thinking that there’s not a single thing wrong with the world.</p><p>If you were observing the two men having a conversation in the suburban Houston backyard, however, you could plainly see one of them recoil physically, then freeze, breath caught up in his throat like a sideways thorn. </p><p>Even from afar.</p><p> </p><p>The boy is a brunette, and his blue gaze is lost somewhere towards the corner at the back of the lot.</p><p>He’d been ready for a rejection. He really had been. But this…</p><p>…what is this?</p><p> </p><p>Even though this should be the opposite of the worst case scenario, it still feels like a kick in the stomach. And John’s not even sure <em> why</em>.</p><p>Perhaps it was the harsh expression imprinted on the blond’s face when he finally answered, or the ice cold tone of reproach in his voice. Maybe because back when the younger one dared to look in his amber eyes, which he doesn’t anymore, they burnt and overflowed with raw energy that, as much as he wants to reject the possibility in his mind, left within him a bitter aftertaste, the distinct flavor of…</p><p>Contempt.</p><p> </p><p>Faced with a rebuff, an argument, even a fight would be understandable. John can fend for himself, he knows how to be angry, antagonistic, defensive. Even. Sad. Resigned.</p><p>Instead, he’s left with a sort of admission that tastes poisoned. That, he has no idea how to process.</p><p>So he shrinks into himself. His hands hide in his pockets, the butt of the cigarette they held has long fallen and rolled down into the dirt. His shoulders hunch, and his body retracts as much as it’s able to, his head down. He’s never looked smaller.</p><p>Eventually, a quiet, calm voice comes out of him, more with the quality of a recorded message than an actual person talking.</p><p>“I see. No, I’m not. And I don’t.”</p><p><em> It should be enough</em>,  Dirk’s voice echoes in his head.</p><p>It <em> should </em> be enough, it should be. Intellectually, John knows this.</p><p>
  <em> It’s not. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It strikes him like lightning, the fact that they might consent, and they might be willing, and everything might still fall apart, and the realization has his head twitching sideways.</p><p>Maybe… it really can’t work. It won’t work.</p><p>He still stands. Frozen.</p><p>At least the emotion is slowly trickling back into his voice. Even if it’s not positive. </p><p>“…I’m sorry.”</p><p>…</p><p>“…again.”</p><p> </p><p>John wants to tell him, point out that Dirk was the only one that ever tried to fence in their relationship. Or out. That the only boxes to tick, and tees to cross where of his own. But the lump in the boy’s throat hurts.</p><p>Someone who actually cares about you shouldn’t really cause you this kind of pain.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to… give you some space, now.” And himself. His body finally moves, stepping off slowly, turning his back, about to walk off.</p><p> </p><p>One last vocalization comes. In a very soft, small voice.</p><p>“I enjoy your company, too.”</p><p> </p><p>…maybe one more drink can’t actually hurt, after all.</p><p>It’s his birthday. He should be allowed to <em> feel something</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Dirk tries to process what part of his answer managed to elicit that kind of reaction in the brunette, John drags himself to the door and goes inside again.</p>
<p>Shit. That… did not sound good.</p>
<p>He didn't expect John to fucking <em> cower </em>at that. That's not... That wasn't the intention, fucking god.</p>
<p>See, how can John possibly ‘simply’ like him? Nothing is ever simple with him, and he’s not even sure that’s intentional.</p>
<p>Dirk leans back on the wall, then ends up crouching on the ground. He ponders for a few seconds and takes out the thing in his pocket.</p>
<p>It's ridiculous and just the sight of it makes Dirk feel like humanity has failed. Still, it had reminded him of John right away, so he'd gone and bought it.</p>
<p>A neon-green, shitty Slimer keychain, apparently part of a retro collection. It seems like one of those things you might keep to pawn off on the internet as so hilariously dumb that it attracts edgy teenagers.</p>
<p>He wonders if he should just leave it along with Jane's gift and pretend John missed it when he opened the bag, then hop onto his bike and leave.</p>
<p>…But that would be too easy now, wouldn’t it?</p>
<p>John is not his <em> enemy</em>. What he's demanding isn't unreasonable, it’s clarification. Why is Dirk acting like a fucking bitch?</p>
<p>He pinches the bridge of his nose. This whole spiel is dragging on for too long.</p>
<p>
  <em> 'He deserves at least your sincerity.' </em>
</p>
<p>Dirk is not lying. None of the things he said was untrue, and he's agreed to what John expects of their relationship. It should be clear by now.</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘And that’s the way I want people to be with me, in return, too.'</em>
</p>
<p>What John is asking for is bluntness, which doesn’t come naturally to him. The question is: how much is Dirk willing to budge for whatever it is they have going on?</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>He looks back at the door. He doesn’t feel that inclined to leave now. It just feels too much like quitting.</p>
<p>Dirk bites his lip, looks down at the stone floor.</p>
<p>
  <em> What, is a Strider really afraid of some chemical reactions in his brain? </em>
</p>
<p>The voice in his head is not his. The blond clenches his teeth.</p>
<p>Fuck that guy. And fuck this, too. He’s not going to break from something like this.</p>
<p>Dirk gets up, slipping the keychain back into his pocket. After taking a minute to think about his lines, he re-enters the house and finds John in the kitchen.</p>
<p>“John.” Being stared at by those eyes still feels like being at the mercy of the ocean tide’s pull. Unless he’s careful, Dirk feels like he might end up going under. “Sorry. That wasn’t… I didn’t mean to push you away. Again.”</p>
<p>This is really not his lane at all, and it might not even be enough, but he swallows down his shortness of breath and yanks it out of himself before he thinks too hard again.</p>
<p>He keeps his distance, though, forcing his hands back into his pockets for something to do with them. “I think I can say I like you.” Jesus, Dirk, that's still shit. He sighs, ducking his head, then looks back up, face tense with nervousness but expression soft. “...I like you.”</p>
<p>The blond shifts on his feet, struggling to keep the eye contact. He takes a steadying breath, because now he has to go all the way.</p>
<p>“And, you know, I want to see you again.” Still not good. Come on, put some backbone into it. “...I want you, I mean.”</p>
<p>Yeah, as expected, it sounds pretty ridiculous. And cheesy. He hopes he never has to go through this again.</p>
<p>“I just assumed you knew that already,” Dirk finishes, finally tearing his gaze away.</p><hr/>
<p>Warm mug between his hands, and chocolate smell wafting up to his button nose. <em> The simplest things, right? </em> John muses while sipping the warm beverage, having at the last second come to his senses, forgoing his plan to get plastered, <em> again</em>, and switching to a different kind of comfort. Drinking hot cocoa from a mug. The simplest things.</p>
<p>Smelling the fresh air after it rains. Windchimes clinking in the warm breeze. Watching clouds lazily float by in the late afternoon.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>The man you’re stupid soft for, walking up to you with a sheepish expression.</p>
<p>Besides himself, John smiles into his drink. </p>
<p>Dirk hesitates and stammers, and eventually gets some words out, puts some thoughts through, zigzagging all the way from his genius brain out of that sexy stumbling mouth. It’s almost unbearably adorable. Almost.</p>
<p>“…it’s ok. We’re good.” John’s lip twitches threatening to smile openly. “It’s just… your words carry a lot of weight.” John takes due diligence, and chooses his own words carefully, deliberately, so as not to fuck up the delicate balance they seem to have achieved once again.</p>
<p>…he wouldn’t have it any other fucking way, though.</p>
<p>He wants to say too many things, he could talk all night if he didn’t reel himself in, he could… he could say way too fucking much. But he won’t.</p>
<p><em> …he does know. </em> He does.</p>
<p>It means the world to hear it, though. And he doesn’t need to say it.</p>
<p>The half-empty mug lands on the counter.</p>
<p>Watching the flustering blond’s wavering, fumbling expression makes something twinge within his chest. Something fierce.</p>
<p>Dammit. He’s in, whether he wants to or not, isn’t he.</p>
<p>
  <em> He does want to. </em>
</p>
<p>“You are one of a kind,” comes out of his lips, in a jesting but warm tone, and John trusts his eyes to convey the rest of the feelings he cannot say out loud as per their unspoken convention. They’re just too intense.</p>
<p>While Dirk’s hands are still fiddling in his pockets, John approaches him, with no rush, he doesn’t want to scare him off again. His slender hands come up to cup Dirk’s face at his jawline. John’s thumbs lightly brush on the soft skin behind his ears.</p>
<p>The brunette leans up and catches his lips, with the tiniest sigh, pressing against him perhaps tighter than intended, but fuck it. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles, and you can’t control every single detail. And John could never have too much of those lips.</p>
<p>His hands slide up to allow his arms to curl and hook around the blond’s neck, where they settle in for a long stay.</p>
<p>John’s not about to just let him go again.</p><hr/>
<p>For some god-forsaken, unfathomable reason, John <em> mercifully </em>takes his dumb confession without much of a fuss. Dirk is silently grateful for it and relaxes slightly, managing to look at him again, even if his face feels hot.</p>
<p>Yeah, he knows. What he’s not used to is <em> caring </em>so intimately about whether his words are carrying out the intended message or not and their aftermath.</p>
<p>Dirk snorts, unsure of whether John’s statement is intended as flattery or insult. Maybe both, as in… ‘fond exasperation’.</p>
<p>But then the brunette is coming closer and touching him and leaning in and he decides to allow himself to just take what he wants right now. Dirk closes his eyes, breathes out slowly through his nose and slips his hands out of his pockets to snake around John’s waist and back, locking him close to himself.</p>
<p>John’s touch is feather-light, so he adjusts his kiss accordingly, moving his lips ever so smoothly over the other man’s, if a bit intensely. It’s easy to get lost in it. The guy has proven to have a way of numbing down his brain in the most asinine ways. It’s kind of addictive.</p>
<p>Speaking of stupidity, though…</p>
<p>Dirk ends the kiss with a drawn-out slide of his lower lip over John’s upper one and pulls back a little, opening his eyes again. “Hang on, I just remembered something.”</p>
<p>He straightens himself from his previous slightly slumped stance and unwraps one of his arms to rummage inside his jacket’s pocket. His hand comes out holding something.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t go as far as calling it a birthday gift,” the blond explains, holding his fisted hand in the air for John to put his hand below, “but I thought this could work as a potential conversation starter, at worst.”</p><hr/>
<p>John’s had trouble resisting the Strider since the first night they came in contact, but this shit’s getting ridiculous. The brunette has to physically restrain his muscles and ground himself to prevent his stupid wanton body from jumping up to wrap around the blond’s. His sweet, tender yet wet kiss is that goddamn electrifying. Dirk has a way of always making him have these idiotically irrational thoughts, such as <em> I’m never taking my mouth away from this other mouth ever again, forever. </em></p>
<p>Can’t really blame John for groaning ever so slightly at their lips losing contact momentarily, but Dirk needs to speak for some goddamn reason, and there’ll be time. There’ll be time. He’s really glad one of those strong arms stays wrapped tight around his slim waist, though.</p>
<p>Dirk holds something in his hand, John extends his in turn. An enameled piece of metal drops in his hand. <em> Birthday gift?  </em></p>
<p>…oh god, is that what he thinks it is?! John beams immediately. </p>
<p>“Holy shit, no way.” It’s crummy and unreadable, so goofy and eye-searing neon green, and it’s a wrinkly as fuck Slimer. The absolute zenith of crazy dumb Ghostbusters paraphernalia. It’s absolutely ideal, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. John hooks his ring finger through it, then rests his face against Dirk’s chest while holding it up in the air to look at it, grinning uncontrollably.</p>
<p>“This is the best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. <em> Almost</em>.” His eyes shoot up playfully, then back to his ridiculously perfect and last birthday gift that’s still making him giggle breathlessly.</p>
<p>“Thank you. It’s been a good day after all.” His gaze draws up to land on Dirk's, with a quiet chuckle.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>There’s a silent moment of contentment.</p>
<p><em> It seems completely unreasonable, to even want someone this much</em>, John vaguely muses while observing Dirk through his eyelashes. Perfectly understandable to dive back in once again for a deeper kiss, though. The keyring’s still around his finger, making the charm clink slightly against Dirk’s neck when the brunette’s fingers card into his hair, but it’ll have to do because he doesn’t want to let either of them go for the foreseeable future.</p>
<p>John’s other hand cradles the blond’s face, thumb brushing sweetly over his cheekbone, body flush against his broad chest, all of him getting severely lost in the kiss. Dangerously so. As in, <em> better get any words out if you have them, because it’s probably now or never</em>. He’s the one to reluctantly pull back from the kiss this time, dragging a moist sound out of Dirk’s lips, before talking with a distinct lack of breath.</p>
<p>“So… do you want to take my bed, and I sleep on the couch?” An innocent blue-eyed gaze lands on the pair of tangerine eyes, for a few seconds at least, before its true colors come through and it becomes mischievous again.</p><hr/>
<p>In Dirk’s opinion, John’s reaction to a shitty roadside gas station-quality, probably illegal keychain of a fucking green fart from an old movie is almost offensively unwarranted, but he supposes he’s glad John likes his atrocity of a gift. It even brings a relaxed smile to the blond’s face.</p>
<p>…which turns into an almost-grin when the brunette manages to smoothly slip some flirting into his appreciation of his new acquisition. <em> The ultimate dork</em>.</p>
<p>It doesn’t last much, since before he knows it John’s kissing into the mirth and drinking his delight. The Strider’s arms tighten around him again to keep him close as he tilts his head and presses their lips together in unhurried undulations, separating only briefly to catch their breaths every few beats.</p>
<p>Then, John pulls back and flashes that unveiled lascivious look at him.</p>
<p>He thinks he’s never had someone so unabashedly want him so much.</p>
<p>“Depends.” Dirk looks down over his nose and licks his smirking lips. “How much ‘space’ did you want to give me, exactly?”</p><hr/>
<p><em> Damn </em>is he fucking sexy. John leans back in to kiss that delicious obnoxious smirk briefly, before he even begins to consider answering the question. Priorities.</p>
<p>“About five minutes’ worth. It’s been six minutes, by the way.” He huffs out a silent laugh practically against Dirk’s lips. </p>
<p>“It’s a queen bed” John explains with subtle laughter in his voice, “but I bet we can squeeze in there at the same time. Maybe.” He dips down to kiss under Dirk’s chin, then up his neck, just little pecks. </p>
<p>…he doesn’t want to overwhelm him, <em> again</em>, but the way that low, honeyed Strider drawl curls into his ear seductively, both spur him on and gives him goosebumps. “If you wanna share, I bet we can find a good position to sleep in.” His mouth rests close to the blond’s ear, to whisper. “Or not.”</p>
<p>Then he pulls back, as much as he’s able to with Dirk’s arms still tight around him, which is really not that much. And he relishes in that detail, the fact that the blond’s arms simply won’t unwrap from around his body. Not yet, anyway. But for now, it makes him practically purr.</p>
<p>“But if you want the sprawling space… I understand.” John offers him the out he thinks he owes him, but hopes he won’t take. Ever. “…might be a cold night, though.” He smirks.</p><hr/>
<p>Despite his best efforts to not let that get to him, Dirk feels a shudder ripple down his spine at John’s words, no uncertain terms about the brunette’s intentions with him. This is one of the things he supposes he likes about the man: he’s never too concerned about restraining his desire, and would be quite a bit to restrain there.</p>
<p>The blond looks down at this eager piece of sin in his arms and relaxes a bit more.</p>
<p>“Sure, I could use a natural source of heat. I’d also hate to give you back cramps on your birthday,” he smirks, pulling back to take John’s hand and start leading him to the spare bedroom. “Unrelated question: how good is your vocal restraint?”</p><hr/>
<p>John would gladly <em> race </em>to the bedroom, until he catches a glimpse of something forgotten on the couch.</p>
<p>“Oh god I’m just gonna-” It’s not like he’s dying to make a big deal out of it, but neither does he want to leave his surprisingly compromising gifts from his sister, with whom he expects to have some choice words at some point, sprawled on the couch haphazardly. He quickly squishes them back into the gift bag, slippers, pjs and <em> other</em>, plus he carefully places his dumb little green keychain nestled in between the folds of fabric. For safekeeping.</p>
<p>Bag around his wrist, he returns close to Dirk, who’s still waiting to a) hold his hand to go into the bedroom, and b) making his heart violently skip a few beats by doing so. Every single show of affection pricks a needle into John’s chest, every single sweet gesture, every bright look from this man, and… smitten.</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>
  <em> Don’t think, just hold that warm, inviting hand, and let him tug you into bed. Um, into the bedroom. Well. Both, hopefully. </em>
</p>
<p>John feels him as soon as they enter through the doorway, Dirk’s arms hugging around his waist, his warm breath prickling so close to John’s neck, to his ear. He melts into the soft touches, but not before shooting a nervous, slightly uneasy look at the full-body mirror on the wall by the bed.</p>
<p>“You know exactly how loud I am, Dirk,” the brunette purrs. “Unless you wanna try and beat your own record?” A playful smirk adorns his face until, stimulated with new attentions, it blisses out into a hot sigh, as his eyes close to the intimate sensations.</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk stops in the hallway, watching in amusement as John scrambles to gather his gifts, flustered. Maybe they can find a use for them. <em> All </em>of them.</p>
<p>He doesn't miss the look John shoots at the mirror, but files it away for later further investigation. For now, Dirk gently takes the bag from his hand and places it on the dresser, then turns back to close the door and finally return to the brunette.</p>
<p>The blond hums, considering his challenge. "As much as I appreciate your verbal feedback, I was actually aiming for the opposite today. Considering, you know. Our current geographic location." He points a finger to the ceiling.</p>
<p>Then, Dirk closes the distance between them, grabbing John by the hips and dipping down to slowly kiss his shoulder, up his neck. "Think you're up to the task?"</p><hr/>
<p><em> Appreciate your verbal feedback? </em>Tickling goosebumps run down John’s back at the implication... not to mention at the memory of a hard bite on his earlobe, immediately after whining a certain name into the blond’s ear, just this morning. Hint: it was Dirk’s. </p>
<p>God, <em> this morning</em>. The thought makes a swirling heat flare up in his stomach, and the air in his lungs come out in a huff. Thankfully, this time it’s for way more pleasant, if frustrating reasons. <em> Pending business</em>. The switch from impending doom to impatient doting is almost dizzying, not that he’s complaining.</p>
<p>Dirk points a gloved hand to the ceiling and John blinks up at it, swallowing, like he finally realizes where they are and why they should desperately try to give a fuck. Even if they don’t.</p>
<p>
  <em> Dammit, we’ll actually have to be quiet. </em>
</p>
<p>Fine. Maybe he’ll be <em> really quiet</em>. As quiet as humanly possible, actually, see if that gets frustrating in the best way imaginable. Not sure how believable of a goal that’ll be in this situation, though. Or any situation that involves Dirk getting close and personal with him. As to prove a guessed point, the blond’s mouth lands on the exposed skin on his collar.</p>
<p><em> Fuck</em>. His whole body shudders, he represses a moan with a swift, hard bite on his own bottom lip. John's already delirious, just from being in this man’s arms. Already <em> hard in his pants</em>. He's confused about whether to consider it a sort of humiliation, or exhilarating, so he’ll go with B. Pressing against Dirk’s body like this, it really helps make a silent point about how much he <em> craves him</em>, after all.</p>
<p>He feels light-headed.</p>
<p>“…ok. I’ll do my best,” he whimpers, soft and pliable, like the Strider could mold him easily into whatever he wanted right now, which is probably way too goddamn close to the truth, and it’s as hot as it is scary. Breathing heavily, stabbing him with that adoring blue gaze and his lips parted, he simply nods yes without making a further sound.</p><hr/>
<p>John often looks as if he’s in a trance when around Dirk, in the older man’s opinion. He feels like he should test the brunette’s limits sometime to check how far he can push him before he denies him something.</p>
<p>Not today, though. That kind of thing needs to be staged.</p>
<p>It’s still John’s birthday, after all. Dirk can afford granting a treat every once in a while.</p>
<p>“Hm. This looks uncomfortable.” His eyes are pointing to John’s crotch, where a very obvious volume is visible in his jeans. “We should take care of that.”</p>
<p>Dirk stays as close as possible to the other man, keeping direct and unbidden eye contact as his hands trail down to John’s fly and undo the zipper.</p>
<p>This is much more familiar territory for Dirk. Sex is a process with stages and a logical progression, several times more predictable than, say, a feelings jam. It’s easier to get lost in this particular activity rather than anything involving talking about things you can’t control.</p>
<p>That said, Dirk goads John backwards, to the bed. Instead of pushing him to lie down, though, he pauses to bide his time in ridding himself of his gloves and jacket. Next comes John’s shirt, taken off at an excruciating pace as Dirk makes sure to rake his palms up his torso indulgingly.</p>
<p>Then, he finally leans in to kiss the shit out of this sexy motherfucker as he works John’s pants and underwear down. It’s only when those are pooled around his ankles that Dirk pulls back and nudges him to sit down on the edge of the mattress.</p>
<p>He takes a moment to tower over him, letting the tension build, before leaning down to invade his mouth, then trace a route of sucked kisses down his neck, shoulders, chest and further downwards.</p><hr/>
<p>Enthralled, John sinks into that gaze, the blond’s syrupy voice purring fluidly into his flesh and bones, making his goddamn soul squirm, because that is a thing that can happen, apparently. Every single time is a mindfuck with this man, and while busy melting, John distractedly muses that it’s even better than an <em> ordinary fuck</em>. Not that there’s been anything ordinary or unassuming with him, so far.</p>
<p>Those burning ember eyes set every fiber of his being alight, he cannot look away even as he gasps harshly at the hands below his waist, barely even having been touched at all. Yeah, keeping quiet is gonna suck. In the most amazing way possible. </p>
<p>In an effort to take some control back, he closes his eyes and rests his temple against the blond’s neck, lips against his shoulder, trying to regulate his shuddering breath. Dirk smells fucking delicious.</p>
<p>A mewl dies before it manages to come out, even though John can already feel his resistance wavering, as he’s pushed back to allow the steaming hot blond to undress partially, slow, to undress <em> him</em>, every fluttering touch of rugged hands on his skin sending jolts through his body. He practically <em> devours John’s mouth</em>, pressing against his lips tight while breathing heavily through his nose. Holy shit on rollerblades, he <em> has to be aware </em> of how smolderingly attractive he is, right? …he should really let him have it. Um, he means. Let him know.</p>
<p>Before he knows it, John’s <em> partially undressed </em> becomes almost completely undressed (damn boots), and he gets swiftly but gently pushed onto his naked ass on the bed.</p>
<p>Then the older man is dropping down John’s body.</p>
<p>His breath hitches.</p>
<p>He follows the blond’s ministrations with enamored eyes, chest heaving up and down, wonders for the slightest instant if Dirk can hear his heart, like he can hear it pounding in his own ears. “Shit, Dirk, you can’t make me- m… can’t make noise in here-” he stutters. <em> I bet he can</em>, his brain unhelpfully chimes in, as he pierces his deep blue eyes with an obscene amount of lust into those tangerine gemstones. John scrunches his eyes shut tight and swallows hard, however, when the path of Dirk’s playful mouth dips lower than his hipbone.</p>
<p>“Fuck…”</p>
<p>With his mouth hanging slightly open, his hands curled around Dirk’s neck, his short nails gently clawing at the soft skin there, John braces for dear life. His leaking erection twitches against his abdomen just from the sight of those blazing eyes accompanying the wanton mouthing down his torso.</p>
<p>His last remnants of focus tell him he might lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t do <em> anything</em>, and just <em> drowns </em> in the kind of attentions lavished on him, so he takes one of Dirk’s hands by the wrist, tragically the one previously caressing the small of his back, and tugs so it slides up his chest, his neck, all the way up to his mouth. </p>
<p>Sucking pornographically on those fingers might make for a palatable temporary switch of focal point, even if he doesn’t hold very tight to the hope that they’ll successfully muffle any lewd noises soon to be coming out of him.</p><hr/>
<p>John's needy, half-assed objections are like music to Dirk's ears. He smiles inwardly as his hands wander, caressing whichever patches of the brunette's body he can get his hands on. "I know you can do it, John."</p>
<p>That is, until John grabs one of them and starts sucking on his fingers. Dirk's dick twitches in his pants, which are becoming more uncomfortable by the second. God damn, this guy's sexy even while fumbling through his ministrations.</p>
<p>Spurred onwards, Dirk kneels before him, keeping his gaze pinned to John's lust-filled eyes. He kisses the inside of his thighs, takes his time in sucking marks onto the skin and even bites one of them. His free hand snakes up to hold his hip as the blond's mouth hikes higher.</p>
<p>Then, he grabs John's shaft and gives it a few initial strokes, watching with rapt interest the way precum beads at the tip. His amber eyes flit back to John when he dips down to lick the head, then even lower to lap at the underside of his length. Dirk keeps at it for a while, letting his eyes fall closed. It feels good to let his mouth run wild, tasting John's heat and ravishing him where it feels best.</p>
<p>When he deems the member slick enough, Dirk takes him into his mouth and draws out a long suck, dedicating special attention to the head before going for a deeper bob.</p><hr/>
<p>John focuses on sucking on those digits proficiently (maybe, who knows), and all is erotic but restrained pleasure for a whole <em> almost several seconds</em>. Soon enough, though, he downright <em> whimpers </em> around Dirk’s fingers, as soon as he feels the blond’s mouth on the inside of his thighs. Who the hell knew those were so sensitive?! He forgets to breathe for a spell, then struggles to keep silent at the wet kisses, settling for a low whine while tightening his mouth and suckling on Dirk’s thumb. That bite on his inner thigh makes his knees buckle conspicuously. God <em> damn</em>.</p>
<p>The relief he gets is indecently short-lived as the Strider immediately aims for his cock. </p>
<p>John trembles as he watches that delectable, skilled mouth lick, nibble, and sink down around his shaft. “Goddammit, Dirk…” he has to let the Strider’s hand go to bite down on his own fist, as the older man ruthlessly dives in. “I can think of ten better ways to keep the volume down right now." The brunette hisses air out through his teeth. “Not that I’m fucking complaining,” he moans, quiet, soft and sweet, watching Dirk spoil him and his cock stupid.</p>
<p>“…but I wanna pleasure <em>you,</em> too” he pouts capriciously, getting his fingers tangled in Dirk’s hair.</p>
<p>That pout promptly turns into an open-mouthed, arched down, big breathless gasp as the blond swallows him deeper.</p><hr/>
<p>John is hilariously bad at keeping quiet, which almost makes Dirk chuckle. He does slightly smirk between licks, looking up at him through half-lidded, taunting eyes.</p>
<p>The look is devoid of any real animosity, though, since the blond is busy with something else at the moment. Blowjobs are pretty efficient because they keep both his hands <em> and </em>mouth occupied at once, all the while rewarding him with sweet sounds like the ones John is making above him.</p>
<p>Also, the hands in his hair have him humming on the back of his throat.</p>
<p>When the brunette lets go of his hand, he clutches John’s thigh, the other one still stroking the man’s shaft. Dirk pulls back momentarily, arching an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m not pleased?”</p>
<p>As if to prove a point, he closes his lips on the side of John’s leaking hard-on, sucking softly before engulfing him again and dipping down until he feels the head hit the pits of his mouth. There’s barely any gag reflex left, but he still draws back to suck more intensely at the tip, blinking slowly up at the younger man again.</p>
<p>Although Dirk must almost look bored, betraying his previous argument, his dick is tenting his leather pants, which, as one can imagine, isn’t the most comfortable state of affairs to be in.</p><hr/>
<p>It finally kicks in, because his brain is moving at a snail crawl’s pace, that Dirk’s never gone down on John up until now. Well… no one has ever before, if we’re being technical, but who the hell cares about that, seriously.</p>
<p>It’s <em> Dirk</em>.</p>
<p>His mouth is like the wettest, slickest pocket of warmth, more inviting and welcoming than anything John’s ever dreamt of feeling, he can feel his pleased groans reverberating all down his shaft and deep into his groin, his hands massaging at his thigh and the base of his cock send jolts of pleasure up his spine, the suction has him ejecting shuddering little gasps, in lieu of what he’d spontaneously be doing which is moan his throat raw.</p>
<p>It’s fucking debauched and sensual and John’s about to lose every last bit of his lucidity already.</p>
<p>“W-I uh- I wan-wanna- touch you-oh <em> god</em>, so good” he barely manages out, thighs threatening to clamp tight on the elder Strider’s head, buck teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip to stifle the high-pitched little moans escaping his throat. He’d curl his legs around Dirk’s shoulders but he’s trapped in his pants and boots at the ankles, which doesn’t prevent him from kicking around in them a bit, frustrated and useless. All he can actually do is fist his hand into blond hair for the slightest purchase, and try his best not to thrust deep and uncontrolled into Dirk’s throat. His hips still buck forwards a little every now and then, on instinct. “God, ah, wait, Dirk I-” he has to stop to cover his mouth with his own hand and dampen a potentially disastrous loud moan.</p>
<p>His legs tremble in agony and delight.</p>
<p>“Wait, Dirk~!”</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk starts getting into a pleasant headspace going down on John, surrounded by his heat, his moans and his thighs to ground him in the moment. When the brunette humps into his mouth, he responds in kind, encouraging him. The hands in his light hair brush and tug against his scalp and the resulting feeling is <em> blissful</em>.</p>
<p>Then, John asks him to stop. Dirk cranks his eyes open.</p>
<p>He pulls back with a wet pop and looks up at him in apprehension, mouth glistening with saliva. A drop dribbles from the corner of his lips. “What’s wrong?”</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk’s mouth leaving him so abruptly makes John breath in a startled gasp. He would have never thought he’d stop before, not while accompanied by the brunette’s melody of deliciously agonizing moans. But Dirk looked truly ecstatic swallowing him whole just a few seconds ago, so maybe the flood of endorphins made him misinterpret John’s words. And now he’s looking up at him with concern in his eyes. Oops. Also, <em> heartstrings competently and fiercely tugged</em>. John’s psyche emits the most embarrassing squeal.</p>
<p>Then he starts laughing, easy and light-hearted, his eyes pinned down on the blond.</p>
<p>“Nothing’s wrong. God no.” Besides himself, his head throws back to chuckle unabashedly. But soon he’s looking back at this intense, powerful man, looking up at him with affection.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>“I just almost came in your mouth, is all!” John looks at him with warmth in his deep blue eyes. His own lips part, as he brings his thumb down to the Strider’s scarred bottom lip, to brush all along over it and collect the little bit of spittle from the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>He’s… so surreally, bewitchingly goddamn gorgeous.</p>
<p>John’s question comes out like a sultry, honeyed purr.</p>
<p>“Wanna fuck me?”</p><hr/>
<p>It’s almost a physical reflex to scream <em> hell yes </em> to that question every time the brunette asks it, especially with that breathy, molten tone John uses when he’s trying to draw Dirk into his orbit. It’s dangerously tempting.</p>
<p>“And is that a problem?” The blond smirks, resuming his slow stroking of John’s dick. “I had other plans, considering this bed is not affixed to the wall, but,” he sucks on the head as if it’s a lollipop, “would you even last that long anyway?”</p>
<p>As he allows John some room to retort, Dirk pulls back and takes off the man’s shoes and pants completely, freeing his legs before returning to his position between them. Then, he looks up at him, hands wandering to explore his thighs, calves, ankles, knees, hips.</p><hr/>
<p>That’s John’s immediate cue to finally, <em> at last </em> hook his legs around the blond’s body. Ok fine, after allowing Dirk a minute of free range to caress every single patch of skin that he wants on John’s body, which seems to be all of them. Then the brunette’s drawing him closer, hands back in Dirk’s hair, blue eyes drinking up every one of his movements, possessive and greedy. A beautiful drawn out groan welcomes back the touch of that hungry wet mouth.</p>
<p>Dirk makes a good point, obviously. “No, I won’t. But-”</p>
<p>John has an inkling, or better yet a good theory, based on years of teenage self-exploratory experiences, his general amped-up level of frustration lately, and the fact that just being around Dirk ignites every nerve of his body and mind into a frantic, thirsty, lustful frenzy.</p>
<p>“…that doesn’t have to be the end, at all.” The brunette gazes at the Strider’s bulking, leather-clad erection raging inside his tight pants, inadvertently licking his own lips. “And I want to take care of you, too. Besides-”</p>
<p>After a longer-than-intended pause, John swallows, self-conscious, blushed tomato-red from more than the climbing arousal and the exertion of sexual tension.</p>
<p>“Lately, every time I go to sleep I’ve had to fucking pray that there wouldn’t be an extended, overly explicit dream where your dick was center stage. Dirk-” he pins his eyes on the Strider, who looks like he’s having a field day down there, and it becomes even harder for John to control his ragged breathing at the sight of that mouth lasciviously going to town on his throbbing dick. “To say that I want you would be a wild understatement.” His voice falters with the stimulation, hips twitching and body tensing up with a broken whimper.</p>
<p>“Please…”</p><hr/>
<p>As John struggles through his response, Dirk pours his heart and soul into sucking his dick. The thighs framing his face and the hands in his hair would feel like a perfect fit, if the Strider actually believed in 'perfection'. He makes sure to reach different parts to elicit the best variety of moans he can get, massaging the man's balls and perineum occasionally. Dirk is going in for the <em> kill</em>.</p>
<p>But the victim is himself, apparently, because John uses the w-word again while referring to him and Dirk hesitates for half a second before continuing. He waits until the brunette actually <em> whines </em>to grace him with a reply.</p>
<p>The blond chuckles, briefly disconnecting his mouth. "This is the most theatrical way I've ever heard someone tell me I'm hot. Some kind of award must be in order."</p>
<p>However, he can't seem to quite meet John's eyes for the next few moments.</p>
<p>"Tell you what," Dirk starts then, lazily stroking John's log-hard shaft. "If you can prove to me you can be quiet, I'll fuck you. Deal?"</p><hr/>
<p>“Who gets the award, me or you? Smart money’s on you,” John rambles jokingly, biting his bottom lip harder with every bob of the Strider’s head, “but I’ll take it if it comes with fun perks on the side-ah, fuck!”</p>
<p>Curiously enough, Dirk seemed to fluster. That'd be a good mental note if his brain wasn't screaming that he needs to get off  <em> s o o n</em>.</p>
<p>After Dirk uses his mouth for <em> words </em> like a goddamn tease, John playfully thrusts his shaft against his mouth, just gently sliding it against the blond's lips, but mostly concentrating on those lustful burning eyes.</p>
<p>No contest. <em> Deal</em>.</p>
<p>It doesn't hurt that he's 98% there.</p>
<p>The brunette bites down on a smirk, keeping firm eye contact and making his best Good Boy Face. "I'll behave."</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk chuckles at John’s rambling, then proceeds to occupy his mouth again with closed eyes.</p>
<p>There’s some level of power play involved in having John completely naked (before you say ‘socks’, consider: fuck you) while Dirk himself still has his clothes on. He has a feeling Egbert doesn’t mind it all that much, though.</p>
<p>On the other hand, John has both his hands firmly tangled in the blond’s hair, which gives him free rein over the pace of the face-fucking at the moment. Of course, Dirk neutralizes that advantage by being eager and willing enough to allow him, something he shows by grabbing the outer part of the other man’s thigh to keep him tightly wrapped around his head.</p>
<p>After all, his current objective is to get John to spill inside him. Speaking of which, Dirk speeds up the rhythmic sliding of his lips up and down the brunette’s shaft, moving smoothly over the spit-coated sensitive skin while his hand follows with a steady grip more at the base of his cock.</p>
<p>He does intercalate some slow, teasing suckles and flicks of his tongue between faster sprints to gradually get John to the edge and over, all the while paying attention to the twitches of his body and tugs of his hands on his head.</p>
<p>It’s fine, he relishes in all of them, raw, indisputable evidence of Dirk’s influence over him.</p><hr/>
<p>Dirk can ravage him with his mouth all he wants. Seriously. If his permanent role is being Dirk’s suck and chew toy for all eternity, John’s goddamn fucking <em> fine </em> with it. It’s so good it’s dizzying, he’s delirious, he can barely keep his eyes focused anymore, or open, or his mouth fucking shut.</p>
<p>Speaking of which, the deal is getting harder to fulfill, his harsh pants and gasps keep getting noisier, and as much as he wants to keep his hands fisted onto Dirk’s hair and ride that gorgeous fucking face for dear life, he’s gonna have to make concessions right now in order to not sound like a nympho porn star right underneath <em> his sister's bedroom. </em></p>
<p>One of John’s arms rushes to support him on the bed right behind his back, since every jolt of pleasure radiating from his cock is creating some serious handicaps for his verticality. His other hand, much to his chagrin, also lets go of Dirk and flies up to stifle his mouth right after an obscenely breathy <em> fuck, Dirk, yes</em>, basically using his index and middle fingers as a gag to obstruct the moaning.</p>
<p>He’d be more upset at having to let go of his lover, if said man wasn’t grabbing and squeezing his thigh like he’s determined to keep him close. It’s great to be on the same wonderfully needy page. The brunette’s legs are still curled around the Strider’s solid shoulders like a lascivious hug, although now threatening, with increasing twitches and shudders, to tighten crushingly around Dirk’s head.</p>
<p>John’s body is giving out, and it’s pretty much about fucking time.</p>
<p>“Oh g-” John rushes to clamp his hand over his mouth when two fingers are simply not enough, the moment when his whole body jerks in pleasure and he cums in Dirk’s mouth, down his throat, with eyes closed under his furrowed brow, and contained but obvious whimpers marking an intense orgasm drawn-out by the delectable wet warmth enveloping his dick.</p><hr/>
<p>The brunette’s enthusiastic measures to keep quiet add to the general amusement Dirk feels at the moment. John’s body reacts so viscerally to his touches and stimuli that it makes him want to turn the man inside out from pleasure.</p>
<p>That’s the idea, at least, which seems to be going well, from the way John swells in his mouth and his muscles twitch around him at erratic intervals. Dirk closes his eyes and keeps up the feral sucking as he drinks John’s orgasm greedily.</p>
<p>He feels the warm spunk trickle down the back of his tongue and his throat constricts in a careful swallow, draining every ounce of cum John has to give as he slows down his movement to some drawn-out suckles that have the younger’s head bumping on his hard palate.</p>
<p>When John finally stops shaking from his climax, Dirk lazily slides open his eyes. He keeps direct visual contact with the other man as he pulls out slowly, lapping up the excess saliva on his way out and leaving with a light graze of teeth.</p>
<p>He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Now that he’s no longer distracted, Dirk feels just how painful his angry boner is inside his pants. No need to look, he’s absolutely certain his pants look like a backyard goth water slide.</p>
<p>“Well done.” The blond smirks, a little breathless. “Could’ve been better, but I don’t think we’ve woken anyone up.”</p><hr/>
<p>John’s whole frame twitches one last time, thanks to those teeth. Fuck if he minds, though. That was t- in fact, his toes are literally still curled behind the Strider’s shoulders. </p>
<p>“Fuck you,” John exhales, breathless, “that was an outstanding… effort.” He chuckles light-heartedly and content, with a broad smile.</p>
<p>He leans his upper body back so he can support himself on both arms, exhausted, mellow and boneless, even though he has no desire to get away from Dirk even a single inch. On the contrary.</p>
<p>That, and the blond sitting back himself, gives John an idea.</p>
<p>Maybe the monster erection in Dirk’s pants helps as well.</p>
<p>He uses his current last little deposit of energy to push himself forward and slide down, landing directly on the Strider’s lap. Suddenly, he’s straddling him tight, their noses are touching, their chests flush against each other and John’s arms curl possessively around the other man’s neck.</p>
<p>The brunette’s deep eyes gaze at the older man, drunken and through his eyelashes.</p>
<p>“…hi.”</p>
<p>Their mouths meld immediately, John starting the desperately passionate kiss, tasting both Dirk and himself, tightening his body around the blond, in a clear signal that lying back and going to sleep is, right now, the furthest thing from his mind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Have a little aftercare. ;) &lt;3</p>
<p>EDIT: <a href="https://shinjukusdevil.tumblr.com/post/644776271503622144/fanart-for-a-dirkjohn-rp-of-mine-posted-on-ao3">Art of this chapter by Max!</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a shame Dirk doesn’t get to spend much longer admiring the pleasured, sated cadence of John’s expression, but he’s not about to complain when the man makes a quick recovery and glides onto his lap. Oh, to be young.</p><p>He smiles a little more gently when John greets him out of the blue. These innocent moments the brunette creates in such a sensual context are… well, endearing, for lack of a better word.</p><p>Then they’re kissing again and Dirk is sinking into his lover, letting his body wrap around John on its own accord, taste him, touch him, trap him tightly in his arms to lodge him right above his clothed erection. He lets out a tortured groan at that.</p><p>Though he’s bent on driving John insane, his own arousal is starting to demand his attention, so the blond tilts his head to keep them locked in a deep kiss as he grips the man’s ass and fumbles them over to the bed. Poor performance on elegance, but points for achieving it with a bludgeoning boner.</p><p>The first thing Dirk does when they’re both on soft ground is freeing said part of his body. He has a bit of trouble with the leather quality of his pants, but they eventually come off, along with his underwear. John looks pleased.</p><p>Next to go is his shirt, which he’ll deny to have taken off by putting on a bit of a show. Finally naked, he fits his body between John’s legs, hands reaching out to latch onto his body and press them closer together.</p><hr/><p>John is pretty fucking pleased alright, pleased to immediately be caged in those arms, tight, like he’s never allowed to get away, at the intensity of those lips and tongue on his, at the fingers kneading his ass while he’s being lifted back onto the bed like he’s a weightless feather for Dirk’s muscles.</p><p>At that flushed, wet, standing tall (and thick) erection that bobs out of Dirk’s tight pants, and that looks like it’s been hungry and ready for a fucking week. Although more accurately, it’s only been since early this morning, which is honestly plenty.</p><p>The brunette watches enamored as Dirk keeps undressing, his slender pianist fingers traveling teasingly up and down those taut abs, while he makes a mental note to ask Dirk how the hell he gets in and out of those leather pants later, also ask him to let John paw at him in them, when things cool down a little bit. But for the time being, he’s happy to simply groan at the slide of their naked bodies together.</p><p>They immediately wrap around each other in a hopeless tangle, squeezing and rutting and kissing. John makes a point to talk in a sultry voice while at the blond’s ear.</p><p>“That was… really fucking good, in case I didn’t make that clear non-verbally,” he mewls as he rakes his teeth down the blond’s jawline, ear to chin, only to find his mouth again and drink up thirstily from it. It’s easy to become breathless the more responsive and loud Dirk gets, he sounds like he’s in all kinds of horny hell. </p><p>Eventually the annoying need to breath catches up with them, and they part.</p><p>“…you’re salty.” John shoots up, with the most wicked look a human being can muster, though it transforms slowly the longer his blue eyes meet smoldering tangerine. It melts into pure lust, even if his semi-sated dick is at the moment only at half-mast. </p><p>In learning so many lessons lately, in fact John’s pretty sure <em> they both are</em>, he’s been acquiring skills like critical unspoken language. Such as sliding his thighs around Dirk’s hips, slow and silky, meaningfully.</p><p>Or…</p><p>A horny, needy, deep look that doesn’t break the silence, but still carries a lot of meaning through.</p><p>
  <em> I want you, I need you, take me, I love it, all of it, I almost definitely love you, too. </em>
</p><p>The comfortable silence, minus their bodies rustling together on the bed and some panting, is extremely satisfying. John wants to take a moment to enjoy it, sliding one hand to cup at Dirk’s face, thumb brushing over his lips, his other hand sliding down that broad chest, caressing, teasing at his nipple lightly.</p><p>Then, with an innocent little pout, he finally asks up at Dirk, in a pure little voice, “what are you gonna do with me?”</p><hr/><p>Dirk’s default in bed is keeping his noises to a minimum, but it seems tonight, the one time he actually needs to contain them, he’s finding it harder to do so. John purrs in his ear and the blond practically <em> whines </em>a low moan, biting his lip not to make it too audible.</p><p>His dick pokes the younger’s crotch when he presses him into the mattress. “I wonder why,” Dirk teases, kissing his neck before pulling back to meet his gaze.</p><p><em> What, indeed. </em>There are so many things he’d like to do to him, on him, in him, most of which would be highly inappropriate in the present context. He hopes his eyes convey that. </p><p>Actually, no, it’s better that John doesn’t fully comprehend that yet. Maybe he’d get scared away.</p><p>“Depends,” Dirk settles for, closing his eyes briefly at the soft touches. “Got anything to help with the lube?”</p><hr/><p>“What’s lube?” John quips with the worst, most grin-split pokerface ever attempted. </p><p>He reaches out to the nightstand drawer almost immediately, too eager and impatient to even pretend to subscribe to this preposterous charade. “Of course I have lube you doof. What kind of guy in his twenties doesn’t have a little help nearby usually?”</p><p>A little (medium-sized) bottle of lubricant is swiftly dug out of what’s presumably the underwear drawer, as per young man bedroom clichés.</p><p>“I mean… it’s only normal,” he argues with no one, holding the bottle by his head. “Chafing is the enemy, everyone does it, etc, etc,” he rambles, shaking the bottle a little to get Dirk’s attention. “It’s orange creamsicle flavored.” He flashes that trademark toothy grin.</p><p>After an instant of hesitation, John simply, quite casually, squirts some of the clear orangey lotion in his hand, which he promptly loses sight of in between their bodies. </p><p>But he knows exactly where he’s going.</p><p>“…besides,” John purrs in Dirk’s ear, getting a little breathless once again while massaging the man's rock-hard shaft with the fluid, “sometimes… you just gotta try and… handle yourself as best as you can. On your own. When you got no one else to help you out with reconnaissance. If you get needy enough.” He finishes the implication with a peck on the blond’s lips.</p><hr/><p>John’s attempt at trolling him is so weak Dirk doesn’t even dignify it with a roll of his eyes, just staring dead-faced at the idiot instead. He’s so fucking bad at masking his emotions, it’s almost cute.</p><p>The blond also refrains from commenting that after their first encounter, John had practically accused him of rape like a virgin church boy, just a few weeks ago, and now decided to play smug. He’ll let it slide this time.</p><p>“I should have known from how easily you took me in since the first time that you were familiar with the sweetest parts of your body,” Dirk comments, but his words die in his throat when John’s hand strokes him smoothly, aided by the lubrication. Fuck, it feels <em> divine</em>.</p><p>He hangs his head for a bit, relishing in the sensation. It’s been a while since he’s had a regular partner, which means John is starting to get the hang of pushing his buttons.</p><p>It can still use some work, though. Dirk overlaps John’s fingers with his and shifts them a bit over his dick. “Here, like this.”</p><p>The brunette catches on quickly, mimicking his pumps, and the blond breathes out a quiet moan, squeezing his eyes shut. He wouldn’t mind coming just like this, but there’s a better prospect at hand, so Dirk snaps out of it and looks up at the man again.</p><p>He snatches the bottle from John, pulling back to coat three fingers with the fluid. “Aren’t you glad I’m here, then?” Dirk teases, a little breathless, and leans down to kiss him lazily as he reaches back to smear lube over his lover’s crack.</p><hr/><p>John smirks and bites his bottom lip, rather pleased with the sounds his maneuvers are eliciting from the blond.</p><p>“Well…” he pouts watching Dirk with drunken eyes, his gaze glued to the man sweetly coming apart against his chest, unwilling to miss a single little detail. “I’ve sort of. Been overcome by a mysterious feeling of <em> emptiness </em> lately. At least periodically,” he snorts, nuzzling into him. “But not before… the first time. Only after.”</p><p>The brunette narrows his eyes at the pointed insinuation, a bit delayed since his head is swimming and all his blood has rushed away from the general brain area. <em> Again</em>. “Hey, don’t bitch. You get me <em> faster</em>.” He hasn’t stopped running his fingers up and down Dirk’s length, stroking gently, only aided by the blond’s very much hands-on demonstration but still pumping at a mortifyingly slow pace, because he has the feeling neither of them is making this the main event in their minds. </p><p>That’s only confirmed when John feels the man stretch him deliciously with all three slick fingers, panting unabashedly while looking up at those burning ember eyes, and soon that feeling swaps with the feel of Dirk’s cock head prodding at his entrance, prompting a sharp but delighted gasp. And maybe it’s a little sooner and more rushed than they oughta, but John is too goddamn entranced by feeling so good and so wanted to give an ordinary flying fuck.</p><p>His voice is but a whisper,</p><p>“I’m very glad that you’re here.”</p><hr/><p>Amidst his lust-induced haze, Dirk merely snorts at John’s whining, though he arches a curious eyebrow at his admission of feeling like something’s missing without… well, something inside him, Dirk supposes. He’s not about to assume further.</p><p>Especially not when the man is writhing and leaning into him in every way possible in the cage of his body, opening up to his fingers and, in sequence, his slicked up cock. The heat of John’s skin is a mental hazard from how effectively it intoxicates him, envelopes his focus and draws out his arousal.</p><p>Dirk wonders how bad it would be if John knew that.</p><p>This time, like the last, he goes in slowly, taking it down a notch when John grimaces halfway through bottoming out, but manages to seat himself fully soon enough. They fit so well together, the younger one accommodating his dick so deliciously and squeezing him at every erratic twitch of Dirk’s hips.</p><p>It comes easily, finding an initial pace while staring down at John fixedly. Sitting up and grabbing the skinny thighs, holding the brunette’s ankles on his shoulders while he fucks into him languidly, building him back up from his previous orgasm. Dirk closes his eyes and furrows his brow, losing himself in the sensations.</p><p>Part of the reason for keeping it slow is also that they can’t really afford the luxury of slamming the bed against the wall today. Unfortunately. The sound of their hips colliding will have to do.</p><hr/><p>After a myriad of gasped <em> yesyesyesyes </em>- as Dirk starts penetrating him, John has to occupy his mouth with his own fingers to avoid some of the filthy noises his body’s aching to make already, the worse the deeper the blond gets into his still-tender-from-last-night body. As a placeholder, he sucks the creamy orange lube off said fingers, at the same time fulfilling their original purpose, until a pained whimper escapes without his permission, mouth stuffed or not.</p><p>“God, you’re so fucking big-” John moans, it hurts but the rush of endorphins from having Dirk wrapped around him, and slipping into him, drown any minor discomfort. Not to mention the way he eats John up with those cat eyes, as he pushes deeper and deeper into him, until he’s in to the hilt. John’s so tight around that cock, it’s so fucking hard and thick, it stretches him out almost too much. <em> Just the right amount of too much</em>. Whines threaten to poke out from behind the brunette’s bitten lip, and Dirk watches every bit of him with hunger in his expression.</p><p>And somehow, it’s even better to see him close his eyes, nestled between John’s legs, thrusting blindly with heavy breath, like the perfect image of lustful bliss. He’s goddamn gorgeous. </p><p>It <em> feels gorgeous</em>. Slow and lazy, but deep and intense, it’s pretty fucking heavenly, John muses with his last ounce of eloquent consciousness before his mind drifts away to only concentrate in his feelings and the sensations of his body. Their bodies.</p><p>Dirk slides into him lazy but unyielding, that steel shaft sending sparks of pleasure down John’s every nerve, prompting needy little moans. It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s not enough, he <em> needs </em> more.</p><p>Using his legs curled over Dirk for purchase, John sits himself up to clasp his hands around the blond’s neck, pulling himself further into Dirk’s lap and closer to him, and achieving the leverage to slam himself harder, deeper, tighter, every time he rocks his hips in concert with the older man, who seems to accept the new positioning with John’s knees sling over his shoulders and the brunette folded over himself, slapping against him, so close that with a little extra push they manage to tangle their mouths.</p><p>“Fffuck, Dirk-” John practically sobs at the depth of that ample girth, and he doesn’t need to look down to know he can feel it in his belly again. So fucking tasty.</p><p>“It feels so good, you’re so fucking hot, ah-!” he twitches at a particularly vigorous thrust, boring his deep blue eyes into the Strider’s. “I love it, god, fuck, you make me feel amazing~”</p><hr/><p>One of the best parts of fucking John is the variety of pleasured sounds he makes as Dirk experiments with new angles, speeds, positions, all the while drinking in the brunette’s colorful expressions under him.</p><p>He adjusts his arms to brace his body better over the bed, around the other man’s contorted spine beneath him (seriously, props to his flexibility). It allows a deep slant of the blond’s hips, so he drags his dick almost all the way out and pushes back in with careful intensity, making sure his head hits as far inside John’s walls as possible.</p><p>A less convenient part of their flings is that the younger throws off Dirk’s focus by kissing him constantly. This time, their kisses are marred by the taste of John’s cum and a trace of smoke from his cigarettes, but Dirk can’t find it in him to give a flying fuck. As of now, the Strider has to balance his rhythm with the pulses of his mouth, which settles them at a slower pace.</p><p>Well, it’s not like they’ve got a time limit, exactly.</p><p>Dirk parts for breath and clutches John’s thigh, close to his asscheek. He leans down to kiss his chest, flicking his tongue over a nipple before finding the mark he’d left on him the last time they were together. Just to make a statement, he sucks over that same spot, proceeding to kiss the skin as if to seal it.</p><p>When he draws back to speed up a bit, he watches the way John’s body responds to his every move. There is a palpable quality to their chemistry that manifests in times like these, in which Dirk can’t seem to tear his eyes or hands away from the brunette.</p><p>If Dirk didn’t know better, he’d say it’s scary.</p><p>After a few moments of taking in the man’s delighted utterings, the blond bites his lip, an idea coming to his mind. It takes a few trained breaths to steady his voice. “Then, d’you wanna,” he taps John’s belly, moving with each thrust, “…see?” Dirk’s gaze flickers to the mirror.</p><hr/><p>There’s something… different, about tonight.</p><p>Well. Apart from. <em> Everything</em>, basically. Ok, scratch that.</p><p>The point is, as much as Dirk has always treated their sex at the very least with passion, this feels so different, the blond looks at him enamored, enraptured in a way that makes John’s stomach twist and squirm. Um, again, in more ways than the obvious ones. This kind of sex feels a lot… it feels more like…</p><p>…</p><p><em> …lovemaking</em>?</p><p>The way Dirk sucks over the spot he’d marked with his mouth just last night, only to end up kissing it affectionately, doesn’t exactly disprove that theory.</p><p>Filled so deep and wonderful, eyes locked with his lover, for an instant John just silently <em> feels </em>with every fiber of his being. And he feels both like their bodies exude electricity against each other... and extremely fucking fortunate. </p><p>And in that state of bliss, he’s in no frame of mind to deny anything the blond could possibly ask of him, so he mindlessly nods in breathless agreement.</p><p>Then he actually registers the question.</p><p>“I… I don’t really like looking at myself in the mirror.” John mutters as he swallows in between pants, tensing up. However. There’s a statuesque blond god hovering over his body, penetrating him, doting John in all his attention like nothing else exists. Resistance melts away, there can’t be a thing in this world bad enough to overpower the feeling of being... <em> worshipped </em> like this. Dirk wants to accentuate that, and John desperately wants to let him, his body and mind inflamed with desire.</p><p>“Ok. Yes-mm!” the brunette whines, being filled deep again and feeling Dirk’s palm against the bulge in his belly. “Damn, yes, please. As long as I get to see you, too.”</p><hr/><p>John’s confession makes Dirk pause.</p><p>Well, from what Jane and John himself have told Dirk, he supposes it isn’t far off to find out the brunette has some issues with his image. Nothing the blond can’t understand, too, even if he’s of the opinion that beauty is subjective.</p><p>John <em> has </em>consented, though, so the Strider will try to make it count.</p><p>“Fair enough,” Dirk acquiesces, stealing a kiss from John’s pretty glistening mouth before pulling back and out to rearrange their position on the bed. He grabs the bottle of lube in the process as well, no such thing as too much slickness in gay sex.</p><p>The older man sits facing the mirror, cross legged and leaning back on his arms. His hair is disheveled, mostly due to John raking his fingers through it, but also from sweat and exertion. He reapplies the lubrication on his dick, hanging his head back momentarily from how sensitive he is.</p><p>Dirk evens out his breathing and looks over at John, then pats his lap, where his cock stands eager and hungry.</p><hr/><p>The burning, gaping emptiness when Dirk pulls out of him feels close to unbearable, so John makes sure to hurry the hell up and chase Dirk around the bed and onto his lap, where the blond is already making <em> come hither </em> gestures. </p><p>After a bit of fumbling over how this position is supposed to work, John ends up straddled over Dirk’s hips with his back to the Strider’s broad chest, the older man’s hands holding around his waist, gently guiding him into place back on his cock. </p><p>In this posture John soon finds out he can snake his arm around Dirk’s neck nicely, and with a bit of a crane get a good angle to kiss him, wet and breathless. It’s hot and intimate, even if it’s too bad that he can’t look directly at the man who’s fucking him stupid anymore.</p><p>…oh, wait. Right. He <em> can see Dirk</em>. And… himself. Right across the bed, on a giant piece of glass. </p><p>And he looks incredibly disheveled, open-mouthed and flushed all the way down to his chest. The pure picture of sex, but to John it’s just weird. At the same time, he also catches sight of how Dirk’s hands curl around his hips as they sway together gently, and of how his orange eyes peek at the mirror over his shoulder even as Dirk kisses it. It’s… it’s a pretty fucking good view, actually. At least, half of it.</p><p>He’s still not really thrilled to look at himself.</p><p>“I just look stupid” he mumbles with a pout, then proceeds to nestle his face against Dirk’s throat, closing his eyes as he sinks back down on the man's lap, and hissing out the air in his chest at the intense, deep stimulus as he rocks his hips.</p><hr/><p>John's hole welcomes Dirk back in smoothly, making the older sigh in delight. Fuck, the guy matches him so well, it's addictive.</p><p>He's distracted by kissing John's mouth and shoulder languidly while keeping him tightly bound to his lap until the brunette speaks up. For a moment, Dirk just breathes hard through his nose, fatigued from their activities, as he comes up with a reply.</p><p>"You look fine to me." The blond bites his partner's shoulderblade, trying to meet his gaze from their tangled position. "Here," he moves a hand to pull back John's balls and exhibit the lewd display going on further south, "looks how greedily you're taking me in," Dirk moves to grab his cock and stroke it firmly, "look how your dick can't hide how much you like it, leaking even if it's the second time you're going today," his hand rides up slowly over John's abdomen, splays out over his chest, "look how your whole body shakes when you bounce on my dick like it's your born talent."</p><p>As anyone who knows him can attest to, the Strider is not the best at compliments, but this might serve his purpose. For now.</p><p>Dirk reaches up to grab John's chin and direct it to the mirror, meeting his eyes through the glass with a smoldering gaze. His voice is husky when he drawls, "It looks pretty fucking amazing. Watch."</p><p>And so Dirk leans forward, lifts John by the ass and holds him above his lap to fuck into him, snappy and mercilessly.</p><hr/><p>As he is directed with firm but gentle hand to <em> watch </em> every detail of their sinful fuck John is only happy to comply, even as his parted lips tremble, feeling horribly and also beautifully exposed, squirming at the sensations, of Dirk devouring him with his intense fiery gaze, with his hungry mouth, with his touch, heat, smell, cock, grunts-</p><p>“Anh~!” John’s head drops back as he squeals way louder and higher that is anywhere near advisable right now, not that he could have helped himself if he tried. His whole body’s on fire, losing his mind a tick more every time he catches sight of that bulging in his abdomen as the Strider fucks him at a deliciously brutal pace. He can’t stop darting his eyes between it and Dirk’s feral, predatory expression of pleasure.</p><p>And there's nothing that John can conceive of that could possibly feel better than having this amazing man lusting over him, making him feel so wanted, drinking him up like water in the desert, so hungry for his body, his noises, his company.</p><p>As much as he bites down on his lip, the brunette is barely able to muffle the sweet high-pitched noises of delight his body is begging him to exhale, with the way he’s getting drilled deep, hard, fast, and how he’s able to watch every lewd detail of it closely on the mirror to boot. Until he can’t control the shaking anymore.</p><p>Dirk feels so fucking divine, sounds downright obscene right against his skin, looks like in an ecstasy trance, they’re so close, so hot and heavy, everything is so impossibly perfect, <em> never wanna stop, need to finish</em>, John’s long eyelashes flutter uncontrollably while trying to keep the eye contact through the mirror.</p><p>“Oh god…” John snakes his arms tight around Dirk’s neck as the man gets noisier and more desperate in his ear, writhing as best as he can against the broader frame of the blond, both their bodies sweaty and burning and slippery against each other, tensing up nearing climax together.</p><p>“Cum deep in me, baby <em> please~ </em>”</p><hr/><p>Dirk is lost in the moment, sucking another mark on the back of John's shoulder, when he makes out a sentence from the string of moans and pleas tumbling from the other man's mouth.</p><p>The blond chuckles inwardly for a moment. <em> Breaking out the pet names, huh. </em></p><p>It doesn't really occur to him to complain, though, because John looks positively <em> gone </em>in lust, milking out Dirk's own pleasure in that state. He was already planning to do what the brunette begged him to, but the verbal acknowledgement of John's depravity only adds fuel to the hellfire of Dirk's hunger for him.</p><p>Alright, time to blow his fucking mind. Dirk sits up, adjusting himself on the bed to kneel with his back straight, resting his ass on his heels and pulling John flush against his chest in a way that forces him to be on his knees too. He leans forward, hunching slightly over the younger man, and fits his chin on the crook of his neck to meet his gaze head-on in the mirror.</p><p>"Then touch yourself for me, John," the Strider commands, voice low and predatory, as he starts thrusting again, using a hand on John's hips to steady his moves. "Fuck your hand while I bury my cock so deep in your ass you won't be able to walk straight for a week." To accentuate his point, Dirk pulls almost all the way out and slams back in to the hilt, groaning in the process. He measures his breath and doesn't break eye contact as he growls into John's ear: "And every time you limp and wince, you'll remember me and crave having my dick filling you up to the brim, stretching you wide and pumping your guts full of cum again."</p><p>Then, as he closes his eyes to focus on screwing this guy into oblivion, Dirk reaches up with his other hand and slips two fingers past John's lips, pressing down on his tongue, violating his mouth.</p><hr/><p>John’s mouth hangs open wide in a silent gasp at the veritable assault of obscenely dirty talk growled hot and ferocious in his ear. He’d swear to all the gods he could fucking come just from that filthy, passion-filled voice.</p><p>“Is t-that what you want? My ass lusting for your big cock-- drilling deep into it all d-day? Hmp-” His words come broken in between moans. Soon he loses the ability to barely make any noises that aren't honeyed whines and mewls, and he’s perfectly fine with that. Dirk’s fingers fucking sensually into his mouth seal the deal, and the brunette sucks on them hungrily and slips his tongue lewdly in between them.</p><p>He can barely coordinate anymore, every deep thrust torturing his sweetest spots, every slap of Dirk’s hips making his eyes scrunch closed and his brow furrow, every groan in his ear sending jolts of pleasure down his spine, making his body tremble with overstimulation. And in that state John still wants to obey the blond’s command, give Dirk the best show he’s got in him, for his smoldering, devoted gaze only. </p><p>With a pathetically desperate look in his hazy blue eyes, he wraps his hand around his flushed within an inch of its life dick, pumping into his fist like the world might end if he stops.</p><p>Feeling the heat pool and bubble up intensely in his gut, John opens his mouth around those fingers in an effort to breathe. He barely lasts a couple of thrusts into his fist before he’s jerking with a drawn-out high moan, cum spurts out of the tight opening in his grip, his hole clenching tight around Dirk’s swollen cock and milking every last bit of pleasure from the older man in his orgasm.</p><p>The brunette presses the palm of his lover’s hand against his own quivering mouth, crying out the aftershocks of his orgasm into it as he sweetly unravels wrapped in Dirk’s arms.</p><hr/><p>Back when they started this… whatever they have going on, Dirk would never guess feeling John come undone in his arms, around his dick, spilling over himself while moaning wanton abandon, could feel so fucking satisfying.</p><p>It’s always rewarding to wreck someone into incoherence and the Strider is no novice at it, but to him, making a partner come usually has more of a self-accomplishing tone to it, as if showing off or proving his worth — not that he owes that to anyone, of course.</p><p>This feels… different. Rather than confirming his own skills, Dirk is pleased by knowing <em> John </em>is getting some enjoyment out of them, and that’s…</p><p>A bit disconcerting, to be honest.</p><p>Not that Dirk is able to hold that train of thought at the moment, though. A few thrusts after John goes skin-tight on him, the blond bites down on the man’s shoulder to stifle a deep, guttural groan that scrapes the walls of his throat on its way out, almost a physical equivalent to the lustful bliss taking over as he hits his peak.</p><p>His hips keep on plunging into the brunette’s ass, even if in an irregular tempo, as he rides out both of their orgasms, pumping John’s hole full of his thick seed. By this point, silence is the last thing on his mind, much to their future misfortune.</p><p>As the adrenaline passes and his muscles start to complain, Dirk retracts his fingers from his lover’s mouth and drops back on his ankles, gently pulling John back with him and holding the man up against his chest. They both take a moment to catch their breath, still tangled and sticky, Dirk’s eyes closed in his cooldown period to collect himself after exertion.</p><p>When he looks up at the mirror again, the blond almost smirks. They’re both proper messes, there’s cum trickling down John’s hand and dick, besides a few drops on the sheets, their skins are flushed, hairs mussed from the sweat, lips red and abused and eyes glossy from ecstasy.</p><p>State also known as ‘thoroughly fucked out’.</p><p>Dirk draws out one final stabilizing sigh and kisses the younger’s marred shoulder. “Happy birthday, John.”</p><hr/><p>All it takes are Dirk's wild ecstacy growls reverberating into him, and the feeling of his cum spurting deep into John's tight ass, hot and filling, to make the brunette shake and whine into aftershocks almost as good as the climax. <em> Almost</em>, because let's not go completely insane here. But still fucking glorious.</p><p>Even after a good respite their breathing stays ragged, panting and noisy, and in the recently acquired peace it starts becoming obvious that they were just excessively fucking loud. </p><p>Welp. They tried.</p><p>So worth it though.</p><p>During the following moments of blissfully empty mind and satisfied mellow body, and after such intensity, John would have most assuredly toppled over completely boneless if Dirk hadn’t supported him against his chest.</p><p>There's something about being cradled in Dirk's arms, held firmly just as he's about to fall completely limp and spent, that makes him feel safe. Safe and... loved.</p><p>It also makes him purr, contented and sleepy and full, shamelessly using that broad chest as a mattress. Dirk's husky drawl in his ear wakes him only ever so slightly.</p><p>'<em>Happy birthday, John.'</em></p><p>If John didn't know better, he would have thought Dirk tone had a tender quality to it. But he doesn't. And it does.</p><p>It’s past midnight for sure, so again, it’s the wrong date by now, but the brunette decides to omit that detail in favor of jokingly responding, “Happy Early Birthday, Dirk” with a light chuckle. And then, with a smile in his quiet voice, "...thank you." </p><p>It's so perfect to simply stay wrapped around each other, just nuzzling mindlessly and recovering their breath. Just for a minute. Then John snakes the arm with the less sticky hand up and around the blond’s sweaty neck, just relishing on his heat and touch, then guiding him by the chin towards John's already waiting lips to steal a slow, deep and sensual kiss. </p><p>It tastes of heat, and hunger, and sperm, and poetry and music.</p><hr/><p>For someone who had so much to say after the first time they had sex, John has certainly improved in savoring the moment in silence. Maybe he’s picked it up from Dirk himself. Sometimes, language just gets in the way.</p><p>As it is, with the background noise of their slowing breaths, the blond chuckles at John’s remark and welcomes his partner’s kiss, returning it with fiery intensity as his arms tighten around the smaller frame of his body.</p><p>Exhaustion starts to weigh his limbs, though, so Dirk pulls back after a few moments and shoots up a lazy gaze at John, a smirk in his words. “Still think you could go all night?” His hands rub idle circles over the younger’s skin.</p><hr/><p>“Why, still hungry? Careful with trying too hard, you could break your hip.” John quips cheerfully, humming content at the silky stroke of Dirk’s fingers on his skin. Then much more soft and syrupy, “I’m good. It was…” there’s so many colorful terms that come to mind, but savoring the relaxed, no-tension quality of the situation, he simply settles for “…great.” And then he melts against his lover’s hands even more with a pleased, low rumble in the back of his throat.</p><p>As much as it is objectively, certifiably true that the thing John wants the most right now is to pull Dirk down onto the bed with him and tangle together to lazily kiss the daylights out of him until they both fall asleep… it’s just as true that he’s soberingly aware of exactly <em> what’s inside of him</em>.</p><p>The brunette wiggles slightly on the bigger man’s lap. </p><p>“…I’m afraid to move right now,” he snickers, leaning back against the blond and twisting his head up to shoot him a playful blue look and a toothy grin.</p><p>It feels so fucking good though, enough to make him bite his own lip at the warm, fluid sensation deep within his body. Precisely zero fucking regrets.</p><hr/><p>“Brat,” Dirk snorts over John’s skin, straightening himself without moving too much. </p><p>He can’t exactly parse out whether he’s saying that out of afterglow overstimulation or the fear of staining Jane’s sheets. However, since that misfortune is already a fact and no longer a potentiality, Dirk decides to walk the dirtier road.</p><p>“Let me give you a little hand, then.” The Strider leans back and grabs John by the underside of his thighs, pulling him closer to him and lifting him off his dick.</p><p>In doing so, Dirk’s softened cock slowly slips out of him and soon after, a steady trickle of cum dribbles out of John’s hole, spread open for their appreciation through the mirror. It’s absolutely filthy, the brunette’s sticky hands matching his ass cheeks and the blond’s shaft.</p><p>It starts getting too messy soon, though, so, after almost inciting another erection in his dick from watching for too long, Dirk releases John on his lap and reclines back on the mattress, supported by his arms. “Since you bragged about being prepared earlier, I suppose you have tissues or something of the kind here somewhere, right?”</p><hr/><p>John’s about to crack back, even though he really doesn’t have a good one (it’s hard to pick on a fucking <em> adonis</em>) when Dirk lifts him up like a feather, slips out of him and spreads his ass open lewdly. John gets to feel and <em> see </em>that creampie slowly leak out of his gaping orifice, exhaling a honeyed mewl at both the feel, and the blond’s lascivious and unwavering gaze glued to the action.</p><p>His skin quickly flushes darker, with a tight knot in his stomach that at any average moment would have stuck his dick permanently in Raging Hard-on Mode™️. It doesn’t, because he’s seriously fucking spent after four intense, comprehensive and hands-free orgasms in about 24 hours, but it’s the thought that counts. Still, delicious. Um… he means <em> dirty</em>. </p><p>Deliciously dirty.</p><p>“Ok, I get it,” he pants, finding it hard to control his breath once again, “we look goddamn good in the mirror, acknowledged.” And after regarding him from the corner of his eye with the tiniest smirk “…together.”</p><p>When he's put down John leans over, sticky hand against his stomach (god knows it’s already filthy anyway), trying not to move too much while reaching for the tissue box in his still-open drawer, to make the least mess possible. Which will at least be <em> some</em>, he heavily suspects.</p><p>First John tries to wipe his hands and in between his legs well, hoping not to leak everywhere, then he hovers over the blond, who looks up at him with tired tangerine eyes. He wipes Dirk slow and gentle, doing his best to leave his stomach, his thighs and his, well <em> everything </em>as clean as possible, at the end of it leaning forward for a deep, lazy kiss while he finishes the last bit with his eyes closed.</p><p>After he gets rid of the tissues via the waste bin, John reclines against Dirk’s shoulder relaxed but exhausted.</p><p>“We could shower,” he sighs, as his heavy eyelids close of their own accord for an instant. </p><p>A warm, peaceful instant during which a soft smile paints on his face.</p><p>“Or in the morning.”</p><hr/><p>As Dirk’s sharp eyes watch John’s blissed out face, he refrains from commenting on the man’s earlier hesitation and merely snorts at the comment, pulling back to give him some room to reach for the drawer.</p><p>When he comes back with tissues, Dirk makes for one, but John cuts him off with a look and takes over, which leaves the older man to falter for 0.1 seconds before dropping back his hands on the bed. He slumps a little and watches the movement of his partner’s nimble hands.</p><p>He doesn’t stay empty-handed for long, though, since soon after John is crawling into his embrace again. Dirk sighs deeply, allowing his hands to rest on the smaller frame.</p><p>Dirk pushes the loose strands of hair on his face back, fixing it as best as he can before addressing the brunette again. “Are you able to withstand holding yourself up through a shower right now?” He idly traces a finger along the inside of John’s thigh.</p><hr/><p>Dirk’s fingers tuck away his bangs, his arms cradle the brunette, his hands traveling calmly over the younger’s body. His voice, soft and close. It’s…</p><p>Overwhelming. The attitude is so distinctly tender and intimate, John can’t help but wonder if the sex was <em> really that good </em> for Dirk too, or…</p><p>…</p><p>After that twinge within his chest at that finger caressing his thigh, he also wonders if the blond can feel the heart thrumming recklessly against his body, because John sure can feel it basically throbbing on his tongue. It’s dizzying, it’s dreamlike and it’s terrifying, because he never wants it to stop.</p><p>All that mixes with exhaustion.</p><p>“I could give it the old college try,” something about his own wording make John twitch uncomfortably, “but… fuck. Probably not.” His legs are actually still visibly shaky. </p><p>“…yeah.” John tips his head up to look directly at the older man, with an impish expression in his eyes and smile. “You wrung out every last drop off me.” He snorts, and then simply takes a good long moment, to get lost in the warm tangerine gaze of his partner.</p><p>…</p><p>Dirk’s hands are all over him. They’ve been for a while, in every way possible. He’s allowed to touch, right?</p><p>John leans in to unhurriedly and lengthily kiss the crook of Dirk’s neck, and if he lavishes some extra affection on him it’s just to reflect appreciation for the night they’ve had. Then he tucks his face in there to purr sleepily.</p><hr/><p>In all of his afterglow sleepy haze, Dirk sustains John’s gaze as he mumbles lewd nonsense, taking in the details of his lashes and eyebrows.</p><p>It’s curious, Dirk muses. Even though he’s seen John at perhaps one of his lowest points in life, the brunette’s eyes still have that sort of… visceral vitality to them, as if they hold the essence of life itself, some necessary substance that could serve as fuel to virtually anything.</p><p>Something that maintains life, unlike amber, which preserves misery.</p><p>“Somehow, I doubt the accuracy of that affirmation,” Dirk comments with a snort, voice husky from drowsiness.</p><p>He adjusts himself in bed so they can lie more comfortably. John falls asleep in a beat and is absolutely knocked the fuck out by the time the blond slips out from under him to go to the bathroom.</p><p>Surely John won’t mind Dirk borrowing his new set of five-year-olds pajamas to not be caught wandering his sister’s house naked. It fits alright, even, so not a stitch will be out of place.</p><p>Once he’s somewhat clean enough to sleep, he shuts the door, strips to his boxers again and slips under the covers, facing John. For a few moments, he ponders the boundaries of their agreed upon relationship. The guy <em> did </em>say he’d take what he could get and what Dirk could give.</p><p>After running some trial loops and hypotheticals in his mind, the ever-calculating man drifts off into dreamland.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> ‘You are a pathetic excuse for a man, who’s to say a fucking son. Get out of my sight.’ </em>
</p><p>…</p><p>The thing about dreaming, Dirk draws out in his mind the second his eyes open the next day, is that, when you know how deep the dark pit of your mind runs, you never know what you’re going to get for the customized hell in your sleep. It’s something akin to a subconscious Russian roulette. Fun stuff.</p><p><em> Lucky bastards, the people who don’t remember their dreams</em>, he bitterly remarks to himself. Then, he fully registers where he is and looks around.</p><p>Somehow, during their sleep, John curled into him and tangled their limbs together. Dirk snorts, attempting to relocate an arm that’s starting to go numb.</p><p>The man’s hair is a mess and there is a thin thread of drool trickling from the corner of his mouth, pooling on the pillow. It’s a masterpiece of unsightliness, yet the Strider’s lips tug into a fleeting smirk. <em> Such a brat</em>.</p><p>A lock of dark hair slides down and pokes his eye, prompting slumbering John to grimace and swat blindly at his face. Dirk catches his hand after he manages to miss twice and tucks the strand back out of annoyance’s way.</p><p>Even with shitty sleep, though, Dirk does feel decently rested, which is perfect, since he has a full week of work ahead of him. Before that, though, there is one last confrontation to be had…</p><p>The blond frowns. That’s the reason he’s not immediately out the door looking for coffee right now. They should brace themselves.</p><hr/><p>Falling asleep gently, warm, sated, exhausted, held and nestled against Dirk’s softly breathing body is the best thing in the world, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter.</p><p>Although geared for some prime cozy and contented sleep, it’s not always as easy as John’s dead-for-the-world wakeups make it seem. There’s darkness in the corners of his mind too, looming silently, in the form of guilt, fear, dead people, self-hatred. Needless to say, he’s no stranger to waking up with a gasp and a racing heart, or with a painful, sour knot in his stomach.</p><p>…</p><p>Of course, most of the time it’s actually dumb shit like semi-anthropomorphic salamanders making giant spit bubbles to communicate with him, like tonight, which is confusing but falls irrevocably under the usual <em> innocuously stupid </em> dream category. It can get annoying sometimes though! Like when halfway through your dream of fantasy world full of mushroom-farming salamanders, there’s a firefly buzzing around your head, and one of said salamanders trying to catch it keeps poking your eye with their tongue. You swat to get it away from you but your clumsily uncoordinated dream self can’t aim properly, because it’s dream logic and rules, and also because this is not really happening because you’re dreaming and you’re just slapping your own face in your sleep.</p><p>Someone holds his hand still and also moves the <strike>firefly</strike> hair out of his eyes. That’s when John’s <em> actual eyes </em> pry open, a bit startled, not being used to anyone touching him before he’s had a chance to properly wake up in the morning. Or like, ever, in general.</p><p>His first thought is that it’s too goddamn early for his heart to stop dead in his chest. It’s those cursedly gorgeous eyes that revive him, that amber fire that imbues him with life and about a thousand other things that are complicated as fuck but John wouldn’t change for anything right now. As his consciousness returns he sort of shrinks sheepishly down into the covers (did Dirk tuck him in??), slightly blushing at the memories of what transpired last night, and especially <em> late </em> last night, the mere intensity of the events not mingling so well with the disposition of a mind prealigned with a slow, lazy wakeup.</p><p>Still, Dirk’s watching him closely if with a tranquil expression, they’re beyond slotted together (again) and… yeah, time to untangle, they don’t want a repeat of yesterday morning. Well, he kinda does, John muses as he pulls his body a little further up to lean upright on his elbow, but it’s been… so much, it’s a good idea to keep it light and low-key at the moment and not dive into even more compromising shit right now. He quickly finger-combs his tousled hair and wipes his mouth (oh ew he’s been drooling, so attractive), better get somewhat decent to face the start of the day, whatever new conversations may spark up, and <strike>oh fuck is Jane up</strike> breakfast.</p><p>“Mornin’ Dirk.” John murmurs, his voice husky with sleep, warm and level like he’s not trying desperately not to be affected by the sudden thought that they’ve now slept tangled in the same bed two nights in a row. And with that, those drowsy baby blues are soon accompanied by a relaxed buck-toothed smile. “Want some coffee?”</p><hr/><p>John shifting awake takes Dirk off guard. He’d been under the impression that the brunette was a corpse-heavy sleeper. Still, he watches, impassive, as the man fumbles to make himself presentable upon waking up to someone else in his bed.</p><p>It takes far too little time for John to already look impish again.</p><p>Dirk snorts. “Good morning. Didn’t mean to wake you, but you were self-flagellating in your sleep.”</p><p>The blond stretches his arms up over his head, turning onto his back. His muscles feel pleasantly relaxed. Dirk exhales softly though his nose.</p><p>“Absolutely.” He looks sideways at John, seeing the shimmer of grease on his face and feeling their mingled bad breath. Ugh. “Though we might want to freshen up before facing the music.”</p><hr/><p>“Mm.” John simply hums, smiling just a tiny big wider and observing the relaxed Strider with half-lidded eyes.</p><p>“If you wanna borrow some underwear and a shirt, that’s no problem.” Restraining from asking to shower together is only slightly agonizing. “I don’t think I have any pants that’d fit you. Except pajama pants?”</p><p>John chews on his lip nervously. Ah, yes, the sweet feeling of morning-after consequences, although they’ve definitely had worse. “So, um. On a scale from Strider ninja to Egbert hollering, how conspicuously loud do you think that was?” The brunette cringes lop-sidedly, but when his eye opens back up and he's looking back down at Dirk again, he can’t help but snort out a little carefree laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.</p><p>It’s a far cry from yesterday morning, John muses while feasting his eyes on the serenely splayed blond, that’s for sure.</p><p>God, he wants to touch him. <em> Just a teeny bit. </em></p><hr/><p>Dirk makes a noncommittal noise that sounds dangerously close to a purr. “Nah, it’s fine. I should probably get home soon. Got some work to get to.” Then he snorts, looking over to where he draped John’s inaugurated new pajama pants from Jane’s present last night. “Those apparently do.”</p><p>He takes a deep breath as he seems to ponder the question seriously. “I’d say louder than Crockerian slumber tolerance.”</p><p>Then, after a few more seconds of idleness, Dirk’s productivity instinct kicks in and he sits up. “C’mon, you know she’s not going anywhere before she’s read us to filth. Better get it over with.”</p><p>He gets up and stretches his upper back again, cracking his neck once on each side before reaching for his pants first. His skin is still faintly sticky from sweat, which makes getting into leather several times harder than it was initially, but Dirk manages… eventually.</p><p>What he realizes, with a tinge of dread, is that his shades are in the kitchen. <em> Fuck</em>.</p><hr/><p>“…maybe she’s not even up?” 100% wishful thinking. “Who even goes anywhere early on a Sunday morning?!” Jane, that’s who.</p><p>The bed instantly feels 30 degrees colder when Dirk jumps out, which is probably not scientifically possible, but what the hell is logic when you miss the man you’re <strike>in love with</strike> crushing hard on by your side.</p><p>Watching Dirk stretch his body slowly really softens the blow, though. At least the groan was mostly in John’s mind only. He thinks.</p><p>“You put on my pajamas?” The brunette chuckles. “And there’s not even photographic evidence of it? Truly a loss for the world. We needed to see Dirk Strider in Pac-man print.”</p><p>Reaching for a random plain white t-shirt thrown carelessly on the bedside desk, John shamelessly ogles the struggling-to-dress Strider. </p><p>“…although. I have to admit. Those leather pants, you look pretty sexy in. Were those for my birthday too?” </p><p>John jumps into a pair of blue jeans next and, giving his attire the <em> who cares </em> Egbert stamp of approval, grins deviously back at Dirk.</p><hr/><p>Dirk smiles while slipping on his shirt. Yeah, Jane seems to be constantly plugged on to a high voltage electric current, she can’t seem to stay unconscious for too long at a time.</p><p>“No one who’s seen me wear such a thing can be allowed to keep living, regrettably,” he jokes (mostly). Now that it’s daytime again, it’s too hot to put on a goddamn leather jacket, so he’ll save it for the motorbike ride home.</p><p>John seems sad about that, from the way he’s looking at Dirk’s leather-clad lower body. The blond arches an eyebrow at him. “Don’t get too cocky, Egbert. The leather cuts the wind when I’m riding. The fact I look badass in it is a bonus.”</p><p>Despite himself, he cracks a smirk at his own boasting. He takes his gloves and pockets them. Those are for after he washes the crust off his face. Speaking of which…</p><p>Mostly done with looking presentable, Dirk excuses himself from the bedroom and steps out into the hallway, peeking back to see if there’s anyone looming threateningly around. There isn’t. Yet.</p><p>After using the bathroom, John slips in and Dirk pulls on his gloves, stepping out into the living room. Might as well take the brunt of it, as always.</p><p>“Morning, Jane,” he offers upon entering the kitchen. The house hostess is finishing up a stack of pancakes, single serving, when he leans on the wall.</p><p>The smirk she cracks at him immediately gives her away. Dirk cringes, forgetting for a second his eyes are bare. Which reminds him…</p><p>“Good morning, Strider. Looking for this?” she holds up his shades beside her, then sets them down beside the stove. A dare for him to come closer.</p><p>The man uncrosses his arms and takes a few steps toward her.</p><p>“Did you sleep well?” Here comes. “Was the bed warm and comfortable?”</p><p>This shouldn’t be embarrassing. Dirk is a grown man, for fuck’s sake. Nevertheless, he feels his face heat up.</p><p>Jane cranes her head at him. “Did you manage to <em> rest</em>?”</p><p>“Fine, I get it. Sorry.” He grabs a cup from the cabinet and reaches for the coffee machine, only to get swatted away by his friend.</p><p>“Coffee priority is for those who couldn’t sleep due to… background noise,” she drawls, sharp look over the rim of her glasses. “Your gift suddenly makes much more sense now.”</p><p>Dirk chuckles nervously. “I’m glad it could be of use so soon.”</p><p>That gets him another playful slap to the shoulder, but after taking her serving, Jane allows him to leech on the freshly brewed coffee. John joins the scene a few moments later.</p><hr/><p>Don’t get him wrong, as far as John’s concerned, a lazy, way slower, naked and more tangled wakeup sounds like paradise, talking tucked warm in bed, making out, and... who knows. The picture of morning bliss.</p><p>However, somehow, the relaxed domesticity of getting dressed with Dirk, bantering and crossing paths around the bathroom to get ready for breakfast, really, truly reaches John in a way he could have never expected. Like a weird wall he never even knew was there has disappeared without a trace.</p><p>It’s extra confusing, so he submerges his face in cold water in the bathroom sink, instead. As he draws back up, water droplets trickling down his innocent face, he shoots the usual distrusting look at the mirror. Except…</p><p>
  <em> It looks pretty fucking amazing. Watch. </em>
</p><p>A shudder trembles out of his mouth and he closes his eyes, letting the water beads drip freely down his skin, remembering. Feeling. And finally, smiling softly.</p><p>His own deep-blue eyes stare back at him, relaxed and warm.</p><p>…amazing.</p><p>.</p><p>..</p><p>...</p><p>Right. <em> Face the music</em>. John puts his glasses on.</p><p>As soon as he comes out to the kitchen, John can instantly tell Dirk is already blushing. Good god, Jane, do you have to go at it so hard?!</p><p>…phrasing. Oof.</p><p>“M’rning Janey. Sorry for waking you up, let’s get that out of the way, yeah? Ok. Are you offering your best friend love in the form of emotional torture?”</p><p>John absent-mindedly grabs some coffee, turns around and, at the highly-amused look from his sister, he pulls the loose collar of his t-shirt nervously, immediately has the inkling that was a Really Bad Idea™️, realizes <em> why</em>, and regrets having carelessly worn an oversized, loosey-goosey, decent-looking but worn-out and stretched t-shirt. Fucking hell, he doesn’t wanna know what his neck and shoulders look like, pretty fucking please.</p><p>...well-chewed, that's what they look like.</p><p>“…ok. You can torture me too, a bit. I guess. I deserve it. Sorry?” He gulps down his too-hot coffee like it’s mana from heaven.</p><hr/><p>Jane doesn’t have to say anything to John, because her eyes do the job for her. When the man draws her attention to his neck, her eyes widen with pointed surprise before darting up to his face and narrowing from a sly smirk, a family heirloom. That’s all he needs to crack, though, because Jane looks satisfied when John looks away.</p><p>The woman turns off the stove and opens the fridge to grab some maple syrup and squirt it over the pancakes. “Alright, I’ll let you two off the hook this time, since you appear to be in a better mood than yesterday. Next time, though, please do consider making up at your <em> own </em>residences.” Her face looks stern for about three more seconds before her face softens into a smile. “Besides, I adore you both too much to do any permanent mental scarring.”</p><p>She briefly takes one cheek of each man in her hands, caressing them affectionately, before she plates her breakfast and sets it on a foldable table along with her cup of coffee. Then, she hoists it up and faces her two guests again.</p><p>“I do have to go, however. I have a video call with a sales representative in another city and I present the same punctuality I expect of them. That said, make yourself at home. Just not quite like last night, preferably.” Jane winks, turning on her heels – and she’s literally <em> already </em>wearing heels, god damn – and sauntering upstairs to her bedroom-adjacent micro office.</p><p>Dirk retrieves his stylized sunglasses. “Feisty wake-up call.”</p><hr/><p>John can feel his skin turn red when Jane cups both their faces at the same time, like a snarky motherly gesture of blessing to her kids, and promptly collapses in mortification overload when she turns around to get back onto the hamster wheel or whatever the hell she's up to.</p><p>“Sorry~” John warbles as she leaves, with his head in between where his elbows are resting on the counter, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug like he might clip and fall through the floor if he lets go. He can feel the flushing heat up to his ears.</p><p>He exhales a long pent-up huff against the kitchen surface, eventually pushing himself back up and killing his jumpstart caffeine juice before turning to face his partner in crime.</p><p>“Yup,” he declares as he licks the last sip of coffee off his lips and bites down on them nervously, as soon as Jane’s clacking heels are out of sight up the stairs. “Brutal.”</p><p>The embarrassment melts away from his face as soon as he makes the mistake of looking up at Dirk directly and immediately gets severely lost, putting a finger delicately on the blond’s shades to push them back down when it becomes apparent that he’s about to put them back on permanently. John needs to take one last hazy look straight into those eyes. Among other things.</p><p>“…but worth it?” He smiles somewhat bashfully, and then leans forward without missing a beat, catching Dirk’s lips gently and melting into a slow good morning kiss. One of his hands slides up the Strider’s chest to his shoulder, the other one snakes up the back of his neck to rest on his nape.</p><p>It’s sweet but short, because John knowingly and miraculously manages to slide their lips apart to look up at Dirk fuzzy and heated, and immediately loathes the thought that jumps up into his mind.</p><p>“…I have stuff to do today.” He grumbles and pouts as he reluctantly starts to withdraw his hands from Dirk. “But at least let me make us some breakfast?” John dedicates his most dorkiest toothy grin up to his crush.</p><hr/><p>Although Dirk’s first impulse is to squirm away from such an intimate setting, he finds that waking up to hang with John isn’t so bad. He’s momentarily disrupted by his aborted attempt to slip on his shades, but soon loses the tension when John wraps himself around him and captures him in a kiss.</p><p>It’s over a tad too soon for the blond’s preferences, so Dirk pulls him back by his belt loops to kiss his grin a little more intensely for some more seconds. The taste is not the best, since they’ve both just woken up, but John’s mouth is proving to be an addictive treat.</p><p>After a while, he pulls back, leaning back on the counter, John’s hips still in his hands. “Yeah, I could eat. Need help with anything?”</p><hr/><p>Caught by surprise, John moans softly against the older man's lips, tasting the coffee, the morning breath, the sheer intensity, that silky tongue.</p><p>It takes a bit to come back from that. When Dirk draws back, the brunette stays in the trance for an extra second, he's so goddamn magnetic, so freaking sexy and those eyes may drive John completely mad yet.</p><p>With a deeper breath he grounds himself, still in Dirk's arms. </p><p>"That depends on what you're hungry for," John returns with a hint of mischief on his face. "I think we have stuff to whip up some quickie eggs and bacon, if you'd like that." </p><p>With a tiny sigh, and possibly one more little stolen peck, he finally dislodges from in between Dirk's arms and heads for the fridge. </p><p>"It's good energy if you have to work. By the way, working on a Sunday?" Yeah, he wouldn't mind cancelling everything either, and spending a whole lazy day with Dirk. Doing nothing. And doing everything.</p><hr/><p>Jesus, is John <em> pathologically </em> insatiable? Dirk starts to seriously consider the guy’s chronically horny all the time.</p><p>He shakes his head, taking another sip of his coffee as he leans against the edge of the counter, idly watching John gather ingredients and pans.</p><p>“Yeah. Freelancers don’t get days off. Not officially, at least.” The blond allows his gaze to drift, taking in the designer kitchen’s details, shades forgotten on the countertop. “I like to leave a fair margin of free time in case something comes up, such as,” he gestures vaguely with his mug, “this weekend.”</p><p>After another gulp of the real elixir of life, Dirk focuses on John again. “And what about your ‘stuff’?”</p><hr/><p><em> Quick easy breakfast </em> is not quite the same in John’s mind as in the average person's, because he’s terrible at holding himself back, as previously established. After staring at the inside of the fridge for a minute, he takes out about 10 ingredients (good thing they’re stocked to the brim from yesterday), and he even has time for a side thought that he files down for later.</p><p>He hums relaxed at Dirk’s words while he makes his way through the kitchen, dumping then all the food by the stove with a pan already on the fire. “It was a nice weekend.” John smiles without lifting his eyes off the work surface. </p><p>Right. Adult thoughts are still a thing. Honestly, it was easy to lose all his focus with someone taking care of him all night, making him feel looked after and pliable, like all he ever would have to do is be there and get molded by strong expert hands and stay sweet.</p><p>…the pan is sizzling, John.</p><p>“I don’t know about <em> my stuff</em>.” He muses while throwing bacon bits in the pan. “I really want to find something I enjoy doing.” He sighs, not sure he’ll even go back to school after dropping off his MBA. “Being a freelancer sounds kinda cool. Being your own boss. Do you like it?”</p><p>While the bacon’s frying, John swiftly gets some more stuff out of the fridge, some containers and a paper bag, and starts fiddling around with his back turned to Dirk.</p><p>“I like cooking, but it’s a terrible job, I think. I don’t wanna end up hating it because of it.” In a minute, his setup is done and packed, and sitting patiently on the counter, so he can return to the stove.</p><p>Ok. Mushrooms, powdered onion, rosemary, fry slightly, stir. Eggs, sour cream, emmental cheese, pink peppercorn. Easy. </p><p>It smells delicious. John stares at the pan, unfocusedly watching their breakfast sizzle softly and get finished to perfection. </p><p>“…I like making music.” There’s a smile in his voice.</p><hr/><p>The sound of John’s voice mixes with the clattering of pans, sizzling of oil, stirring of ingredients against metal. Dirk’s sense of smell is soon activated as well, the scent of bacon overpowering the waft of coffee from the mug in his hands. </p><p>It’s a soothing combination, thus why the blond finds himself distracted, his mouth slightly wetter than usual, when John asks him something.</p><p>“I wouldn’t want to work any other way, but as those TouYube ad business coaches always preach, it takes some organization and focus,” Dirk drawls, finishing up his beverage and setting the mug down by the sink. “It’s easy to get distracted if your mind tends to wander.”</p><p>Then, he goes back to watching John move about with naturality. He seems deep into his element. It’s interesting to watch.</p><p>There’s some kind of sparkle in his eyes when he mentions music. Dirk hums.</p><p>“Have you ever thought about recording your songs and setting up a channel online?” His eyes land on John’s feet. “Dave makes part of his solo income through ads and subscriptions.” Dirk shrugs. “Might not be the ideal medium for classical music, but it’s a trend in the industry.”</p><hr/><p>Across the counter John quickly plates their breakfast, adding a piece of french baguette to each that he rips unceremoniously with his hands, then turns around to also grab both their mugs and the leftover coffee in the pot to wash it down with. Everything plus some utensils and napkins lands on the kitchen island, because having normal, relaxed breakfast sitting down at a table with a bunch of formal paraphernalia is ridiculous. John perches sideways on one of the stools so he can look at Dirk now sitting by his side.</p><p>“Well… yeah. Maybe a Campband or something like that…” he ebbs off with his eyes down, already fork in hand and attacking his plate. </p><p>It’s good! Perfect, it would be embarrassing to fuck up a nice simple breakfast. He chews carefully around a small amused smile, while considering something Dirk was saying. “Hey, you don’t think I only do classical music do you? Hell, maybe you should listen to a couple of Dave's mixes more closely!” he snorts, already wondering if Dirk will check on that. Then he pauses to dab on his lip with the napkin, because buck teeth aren't the most conducive to a neat mouth. “Of course I do like classical but it’s not the only style I can play.”</p><p>“Actually…” The brunette puts down his utensil to wring his hands together nervously. “I’ve been kind of considering offering myself up as a studio musician?” His bottom lip’s getting a good chewing. “Keyboards and piano. But I don’t know. I don’t think I’m that kind of good or anything, so-” John scratches at his neck nervously, avoiding his interlocutor's eyes. </p><p>“But, ahem. Anyway, yeah. I’m gonna think about that. Being your own boss sounds great, because let’s face it, people <em> suck</em>.” He punctuates with a dramatic eye roll. “If I had to work behind a counter serving <em> Karens </em>all day I swear to god I’d k-” he catches himself with a bit of a startled look up at Dirk, then smiles and rectifies, “I’d go berserk.”</p><p>After a sip of coffee refill, John picks his nearly-forgotten fork back up and gets ready to continue eating, but only after leaning closer to Dirk and whispering “…or if I had to be in an office all day with a bunch of stiff suits.” He beams.</p><hr/><p>As John sets the plates on the counter, Dirk catches on and moves to sit on one of the stools, watching quietly as the brunette flits about making the finishing touches. The blond looks down at the dish before him.</p><p>This is probably the most elaborate breakfast he’s had in years. Besides <em> looking </em>good, it also smells appetizing.</p><p>…Alright, it smells fucking <em> amazing</em>.</p><p>He waits until John has started digging in to follow. It’s some change of pace for him, waking up like this. But although the scenario is blatantly off for Dirk, it’s just once. Everything’s still on schedule.</p><p>Except this is not the first time.</p><p>Dirk tugs his attention back to the food and the man talking beside him. He subtly arches an eyebrow when John stutters at his wording, but focuses on hearing him out as he fills his stomach with fresh, warm food and coffee.</p><p>“I wouldn’t worry so much about being good,” he offers at some point, elbows propped on the counter as he waves his fork idly. “For some things, it pays off to offer something unique rather than with standard quality.” Tangerine eyes flick up at navy blue ones. “It seems to me like you’re passionate about music, so that’s something.” <em> Great coaching, Strider. </em></p><p>He shoves another forkful into his mouth to shut up.</p><p>Dirk also politely does not comment on the fact that he himself is probably one of those ‘Karens’, if the incident at the coffee shop is anything to go by. No, he corrects himself: coffee <em> slander</em>. That shit can’t be called a coffee shop.</p><p>“Mm,” he hums noncommittally instead. “Mindless labor does sound exhaustive. Figures you’d be more attracted to creative crafts.”</p><hr/><p>Something about Dirk, the most stoic Strider, calling him passionate-- okay look John's just really fucking smitten, alright?? His stomach clenches dangerously around his half-eaten breakfast.</p><p>Honestly, it's pretty fucking hard not to <em> jump him. </em></p><p>"...you noticed that?" John's eyes unglue themselves from that intense orange gaze as he looks away with a sheepish smile.</p><p>"I don't know." The brunette twirls the utensil in his hand, eyes firmly secured to his plate. “I'm not- what would even make me special anyway,” he shrugs. <em> Nothing</em>.</p><p>“But… yeah!” He finally draws those baby blues back up to Dirk, twinkling bright and warm. “Something creative. I need my brain to be doing <em> something</em>. Inventive stuff. Otherwise it just… atrophies and wilts. Kinda.” John muses for a moment with his eyes lost over the blond’s shoulder, before focusing back on those topaz eyes sporting a doting smile. “Thanks, Dirk.”</p><p>Then, much to the detriment of his resolve to lay back a bit, his deep eyes drop down to the Strider’s lips, half-lidded, and he wonders how something on this world can be allowed to be so kissable.</p><hr/><p>Dirk blinks, looking down at his plate. Well of course he’s noticed it, he’s got a perfectly functional pair of eyes. </p><p>Unless… it’s actually not that obvious? He doesn’t want to think about that right now.</p><p>Especially not when John’s <em> thanking </em> him, god damn it, for <em> what</em>?</p><p>“Nothing to thank me for,” the blond dismisses, stabbing another piece of his tasty food with the fork. “If anything, thank <em> you </em>for cooking breakfast. It’s pretty good.”</p><p>Then, when John falls silent, Dirk peeks at him again and knows exactly where he’s looking at. Before he can help himself, he licks his lips, then decides to try out taking the fork to his mouth and closing his lips around it slowly, discreetly watching for John’s reaction.</p><hr/><p>"Uh." It's <em> eyes up time</em>, Johnny boy. "Thanks!" Besides himself, John beams at the praise. Not to mention the tickle in his belly. "I'm glad you like it. That makes me happy." He rubs at the side of his neck shyly with his index finger while his feels his body get progressively warmer.</p><p>...wow. Ok. Maybe it's <em> eyes back to mouth eating sexily time </em> after all. Goddamn.</p><p>Dirk can't possibly think that's subtle, right?? Dammit, John's skin feels <em> on fire</em>.</p><p>"It's good." John puts his fork down by his plate and dips the tip of his ring finger in the sauce, crossing his legs slowly while he deliberately brings it to his mouth and sucks it clean playfully.</p><p>"Maybe you'd like some dessert too," he purrs with a mischievous smirk.</p><hr/><p>Works like a charm, if a little too obviously, apparently. John gives it back in stride, sucking on his slim finger as he shifts his weight and accentuates his waistline.</p><p>…is that also too observant of Dirk? Fuck it, he’s a cunning man, it isn’t too far-fetched to accept he notices little details about people, more so if he’s been around them frequently. Closely.</p><p>Never mind.</p><p>Dirk straightens himself on the stool. “After breakfast? Aren’t you skipping a meal in-between, John?” He lifts a thumb and slides it carefully along his lip, as if wiping it.</p><hr/><p>"Nothing wrong with starting the morning with a little treat." John rests his elbow on the counter and his chin on his open palm, tilting his head up to look at Dirk with an innocent expression. "Fills you up for the day." His smile is soft and unassuming, but his gaze is anything but.</p><p>"I'm sure we have something sweet stashed somewhere. Something creamy and rich." The boy sensually licks an inexistent crumb of his bottom lip, nice and easy and slower than it is essential. <em> Way </em>slower.</p><p>"Besides," his naughty grin widens, "you gotta take the opportunity when you can have such rare delicacies. They're special occasions after all." John watches the blond carefully from under his eyelashes, with not an ounce of shame left. But something else growing in him, possibly.</p><p>"Who knows when you'll get to taste them again." He bites the tip of his finger with a light chuckle, flirty and impish.</p><p>"Sinful."</p><hr/><p>Without his shades, it’s easier to remind himself not to let his eyes wander, but it’s unbelievably hard to <em> convince </em>himself not to when John’s voice is a tone lower than normal and his words are lulled by an underlying invitation.</p><p>His eyes snap back up. Dirk licks his lips and burns John with his undeterred scorching gaze. “Well,” the man starts, leaning forward ever so tortuously, “as long as I have the ingredients at home,” he reaches up with one glove-clad hand, “I can have them… whenever…” The blond’s eyes lower to John’s lips, over which he firmly slides his thumb back and forth, playing with the softness of the flesh there, “…I want.”</p><p>Close to the brunette and with heavy tension in the air, Dirk blinks with feline sluggishness up at him again, then suddenly pulls back and resumes eating, face inexpressive once more.</p><hr/><p>Practically purring at the blond’s sultry voice, John exhales the softest shuddering sigh at the sensual touch of careful calloused fingers on his lips, swallowing tightly when Dirk withdraws, and feeling those burning eyes <em> fuck his entire being raw </em> before they regrettably turn their attention back to breakfast.</p><p>He’s starving.</p><p>Abandoning all pretense to <em> not be doing things specifically to turn Dirk on</em>, John picks up a strip of bacon from his plate with his fingers, placing it on the tip of his tongue before he slowly pulls it into his mouth to eat. All of this while keeping his big blues in a state of constant eye-contact with Dirk’s.</p><p>“It’s not that easy, you know” he hums sweetly, as he reaches over to ghost his fingers over Dirk’s forearm.</p><p>“Those ingredients are… unique.” John dedicates him an innocent smile and a hungry look as his other hand stalks up towards the Strider’s mouth. “You can’t just…” His slender fingers caress the corner of his mouth, tracing over his cupid’s bow, then stroking down with no hesitation to poke the tip of his thumb ever so slightly in between Dirk’s thin sexy lips. “Get them anywhere.”</p><p>After an instant of intensely gazing into tangerine eyes, John draws back, bringing his hand to his own mouth and playfully lapping at the moisture on the tip of his finger.</p><p>His elbow lands once again on the counter, much closer to Dirk this time, allowing John to rest his head on his fist merely a couple inches from the blond.</p><p>“You’d have to take the <em> ingredients </em>home with you.” John blinks slow and smoldering, looking up at Dirk hazy with unhidden desire.</p><p>He’s such a bastard, and John’s never wanted someone more in his goddamn life.</p><hr/><p><em> Shit</em>.</p><p>John’s fingers spark some deep-seated arousal in the pit of his lower abdomen. He closes his eyes and parts his lips to welcome them, then redoubles the intensity of his gaze when he looks up at the brunette again.</p><p>He should really put a stop to this, because Dirk is not entirely sure this little game won’t end with John bent over the counter being pummeled while his sister’s upstairs in a business meeting.</p><p>Instead of following reason, though, the blond follows his pride. He leans in and, without breaking eye contact, drops his fork to John’s plate, stabbing a piece of mushroom. “I know,” he says simply, then slowly closes his lips around the fork and chews silently.</p><p>His composure is a little rattled by the buzzing heat in his body, though, which makes him cross one leg over the other, something John’s sure to notice.</p><hr/><p>Yeah, John's glad he crossed his legs a while ago. Nice to see Dirk squirm a bit from his attentions and cross his own as well though, not that his state wasn’t clear with the way he’s been eating John up with those fiery jewel eyes. Delicious. It makes a pleasure chill run down the brunette’s spine and squirm, every time, which is admittedly getting to be more and more often. Truth be told and all cards on the table, right now, John would be more partial to um, <em> uncrossing his legs</em>, pointedly, for Dirk. Yeah. </p><p>Shit.</p><p>A kiss can’t hurt though, right?</p><p>Deep blue doe eyes look wanton and intensely up at the man devouring him touchless. </p><p>For a long span.</p><p>Before John licks his own lips thirstily.</p><p>Leaning forward delicately, his forehead comes to rest against the blond’s, their noses touching. Their mouths so close they would simply have to tilt their heads forward a micron. John speaks with a smile a whisper away from Dirk’s lips.</p><p>“How are you gonna do that, exactly?”</p><p>That came out wrong. What he really meant to say is <em> come get me. </em></p><hr/><p>Dirk drops the fork on the plate and cups John’s face, swallowing before sealing their lips and closing his eyes.</p><p>The kiss lasts a few seconds, and then some more. There is a repeat. Then an encore. Then a fourth act. Then a payback. In the end, they kiss a lot. The food goes cold. Their bodies go hot.</p><p>John’s lips fit perfectly in his scarred ones and the man seems to understand just how to move them in sync with Dirk’s. he matches the rhythm of the older’s mouth, retreating or advancing in a steadily satisfying balance.</p><p>When they pull away, Dirk has no idea how long he’s been sucking on John’s face, but he’s slightly breathless and mildly flushed. He lazily looks up at the brunette, gauging his expression.</p><p>Yeah, he looks just as affected. Good.</p><p>Right, John had flirtatiously asked something before. “Guess I’ll just have to call for a home delivery sometime, then.” Dirk’s voice is low and amusedly teasing. “Take my sweet time cooking this… special meal.”</p><hr/><p>Kissing Dirk is goddamn amazing, don’t get him wrong. John would be overjoyed to latch to that tender yet hungry mouth for the rest of eternity. </p><p>But.</p><p>It’s the way Dirk immediately catches his lips with no hesitation, gloved hand holding him soft and close, no pretense, tension or denial, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, that sends a twinge to John’s stomach eliciting a contented sigh from the brunette. Dirk wants to kiss him, they both want to kiss, and they do. Nothing more complicated than that about their relationship at this moment. </p><p>(His other twinges can wait.)</p><p>Angelic. The moment, and Dirk’s kisses, tender, affectionate and just that touch of lustful that’s inebriating. John could die happy. Please, fuck, whoever’s in charge of these things, let him die like this.</p><p>It’s so good, he’s so entranced, it doesn’t even sting when they pull apart. John just looks up at the arresting Strider with foggy eyes and chuckles breathlessly at his goofiness, and nibbles his own lip.</p><p>“You think I’ll just come running, huh.” He holds his gaze for a few seconds and, as if to contradict himself immediately, pushes himself up to slip onto Dirk’s lap sideways, sitting on him with his arms snaked around the blond’s neck and brushing their lips together once again.</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><hr/><p><em> Yes</em>, Dirk muses internally, but it backfires when his mind retorts with <em> you’re one to talk </em> way too quickly and his entertained smirk ends up faltering.</p><p>He <em> could </em>quit, if he wanted to. John isn’t a necessity in his life. He’s… a diversion. An addi<strike>c</strike>tion. Nothing serious, as they both agreed.</p><p>One arm comes around to secure John’s body on his lap while his other hand grabs the side of his thigh. Dirk tilts his head and pulls him closer, moving his lips over John’s for a heartbeat before voicing over his mouth: “Would you keep away if I did?”</p><hr/><p>If Dirk can't feel that wide grin against his lips, he's a <em> goddamn fool</em>. John practically purrs when those strong Strider arms wrap around his body. And <em> practically </em> is becoming <em> literally </em>with every subsequent move, fast.</p><p>"Now why would I do that," the brunette chuckles soft and low.</p><p>Sliding his hand to cup Dirk's face <em> casually</em>, his slender fingers resting on the soft skin behind his ears, John's mouth quirks into a cheeky smirk as he pulls back.</p><p>"I <em> kinda like you</em>." His eyebrow raises impudently, the warm spark in his eyes hopefully conveying more than the words he can't or won't dare say. Either way, he doesn't wait for Dirk to react properly to slide his hands back around his shoulders and pull him close into a deeper, starved kiss.</p><hr/><p>Dirk’s eyes search John’s oceanic gaze before they slide closed into the kiss.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strike>Do you like me, or is this just convenient?</strike>
  </em>
</p><p>He pulls him closer by his thigh, sliding his hand lower towards his ass.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strike>Do you like me, or do you just don’t have better options?</strike>
  </em>
</p><p>The blond’s other hand slides up to John’s neck, letting his fingers rest on each side of his nape.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strike>Do you like me, or am I just a fill-in?</strike>
  </em>
</p><p>Dirk’s brow furrows and he growls, mostly at himself, before unleashing his annoyance into the kiss by nibbling on John’s lips, running his tongue over his, sucking back kisses until they’re both having trouble breathing.</p><hr/><p>A blissed-out sigh welcomes Dirk's lips, tiny contented noises thanking every little slide of his tongue, small pants and gasps traded for every nibble and suckle. John's hands stroke over the Strider's broad shoulders, caress up his neck to tangle into blond hair. Gestures of possessiveness. Hunger. Affection.</p><p>Smitten.</p><p>If actions could speak for themselves (and they do), what would John's potentially say? Because they <em> are</em>.</p><p>...unfortunately-</p><p>In the middle of their tongues getting tangled, their mouths sucking greedily on each other's lips, their bodies getting dangerously close, tangled, hot, John pulls back with a wet <em> pop</em>. He stares down at Dirk dazed and unfocused, almost confused by his own interruption. For an instant, he gazes down to that incredibly appetizing mouth and into those beautiful tangerine eyes, questioning every single decision in his life and whether he wouldn't give anything in the world up for this to simply <em> continue</em>.</p><p>...</p><p>But <em> he has to</em>.</p><p>"Sorry," he laughs breathlessly. "As much I'd like to um. Stay like this." His hands are still cupping Dirk's face. "I... have a bunch of stuff to do today. Sorry." His fingers absent-mindedly run over Dirk's chiseled cheekbones.</p><p>"But, um. I hope you'll make good on your word and. Call me?" John smiles sheepishly at the man underneath him. "If you want. I'd like that. Seriously." He tries to not sound <em> too needy</em>, even though there's a pang of fear in his chest. The brunette leans down for one last quick, sweet and almost-chaste kiss before reluctantly getting off Dirk's lap, his hand lingering as it slides off his shoulder when he walks past him to go around the kitchen island.</p><p>"But please take this?" John grabs the large paper bag he filled while cooking and dangles it playfully from the handles. "We had so much food last night! So there's leftovers. I figured they would be nice to share. You can have a couple of days worth of meals out of them. Less cooking!" he declares with a shy smile.</p><hr/><p>As soon as John draws back, Dirk slides his eyes open, sucking in a breath to fill his hungry lungs. He raises an eyebrow when John <em> apologizes</em>, wondering if he’s missed something as they kissed.</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” he cranks out after John provides him a little more context. “Same here.” God, Strider, that’s <em> lame</em>.</p><p>After his lap is emptied, Dirk stands, slightly adjusting himself before straightening his clothes and reaching for his jacket and shades. He slips on the specs, then turns to John.</p><p>He’s not sure yet he wants to dissipate the image of a rough-edged man John has of him, just in case he has to use it again, but he’s almost feeling bad for the brunette’s hesitation around him.</p><p>Although… this is what he feared, in some way.</p><p>Dirk snorts, stepping forward to grab the paper bag. “You don’t have to <em> beg </em> for me to take <em> food</em>, John. Thanks, I appreciate it. Dinner was really good.” He leans down to kiss him for a few moments. “And I’ll stay in touch,” he decides, then pulls back to walk towards the entrance.</p><p>He finds his helmet and decides to forgo his jacket because it’s way too fucking hot, choosing to put it away along with the food. They’ll survive.</p><p>Before crossing the threshold, Dirk dedicates one last smirk to the brunette. “Take care, John. Tell Jane I enjoyed the meal.”</p><p>Then he shoves on his helmet, climbs onto his bike and speeds into the road back to his apartment, feeling warm from the sun over his head.</p><hr/><p>It’s a little flooring when Dirk calmly accepts his food without fighting back, in all honesty. Of course last time John tried to make him some food before last night was a complete mess, but nevermind that now. It’s just the big metaphorical tag over the brunette’s head saying <em> sorry for the domesticity </em> is still glowing in neon colors. But it’s not a mystery why home cooking isn’t on Dirk’s <em> list of signs of affection.</em></p><p>“Well I- just- thought you’ll probably need to eat at some point during the day, right?” Good, quality mental process. “So you can skip the cooking. Oh god, you don’t survive solely on cold pizza like Dave, do you?” he asks, mostly to himself, but he gets lost in the goodbye kiss Dirk grants him to never find his way back or want to.</p><p>
  <em> And he’ll stay in touch. </em>
</p><p>... &lt;3</p><p>John watches him lamely as he gets his things, a bit dumbstruck, searching for some proper words. <em> Yank me onto your bike, take me home, tie me to your bed and fuck me raw for a month straight </em> seems like the wrong vibe for this moment, as much as John would like to say exactly that. Which is. Very fucking much.</p><p>Or John could walk him out, but the <em> longing at the widow’s walk </em> scenario seems troubling either, he thinks as he sort of wrings his hands together, not sure what to do with himself.</p><p>He barely jolts out of it before Dirk puts on his helmet. “Bye Dirk. <em> Later</em>,” he corrects himself. “Drive safe.” He momentarily wonders about the level of recklessness about to take place on the road, but quickly dismisses the thought as <em> highly distracting</em>. Instead, he just watches himself smile warmly in the reflection of Dirk’s visor as he leaves.</p><p>And then sighs deeply as the door closes.</p><p>…</p><p>Fortunately, he’s about to have a real fucking busy week.</p><p>But first, a goddamn shower.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dirk is <em> also </em>about to have a busy time this week, it seems.</p><p> </p><p>A day goes by somewhat uneventfully after so many events clustering in one single weekend, giving Dirk some time to breathe. After a refreshing, <em> long </em>shower, he sinks into his mildly accumulated work and thus wears away his Sunday.</p><p>Surprisingly enough, he actually pauses to eat once he’s reminded of the leftovers from Jane and John’s birthday in the fridge. The food is still delicious even if reheated. He finds himself wondering what other kinds of dishes John can cook.</p><p>After stuffing his stomach, though, he finds himself curiously tired and calls it a night by midnight.</p><p>It’s only Monday when his calm is disrupted again.</p><p>He comes back from the bathroom to find out that, in the span of a few minutes, two out of three siblings have decided to grace him with their nosy selves. He addresses the most concerning one first.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tentacleTherapist [TT] has begun messaging timaeusTestified [TT] --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="rose">TT: Good morning, brother dear.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: It’s been a long time, has it not?</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: How was the meal?</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: ;)</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="rose"> <span class="dirk">TT: Good morning, sister darling.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: And what would the meal represent here?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Let me guess: it has something to do with dicks, or our deceased mother.</span> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>He switches tabs to his younger brother.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- turntechGodhead [TG] has begun messaging timaeusTestified [TT] --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">TG: hey bro sup</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: yo you seen or talked to egbert lately or sth</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i bet youve checked with jane for their birthday and shit and i dunno i thought he mighta been there</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: bitchs been dodging inquiries left and right like a pro footballer when he gets the balls shot hard directly at his face under the goalpost during sports playouts</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: that was a hundo percent accurate sporting lingo admit it</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: so you heard anything been around them or</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: ok look hes aight i know im just still kinda jittery from when he disappeared on all our asses</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: dirk</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: dirk</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i know youre on your comp 24/7 dude im gonna pester you til you fulfill my needs lets not make that vein throb more than necessary</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: ok nm that</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: fine ill grab some cold pizza and last nights coffee and then resume the botheration</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: in the meantime kick whoever youre tangled in bed with out the door and answer me</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: pound it btw</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave"> <span class="dirk">TT: ‘Sup, Dave.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yes, that is indeed the tightest sports terminology I have ever come across on the internet. Commentators lie awake at night, seething in sheer envy at your juicy vocab.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Much like the vein you mentioned.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Just for the record, though, I was in the bathroom. Just because I’m afk, doesn’t mean I’m ‘pounding it’.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Last, but not least,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Why do people seem to be under the impression that I know about Egbert’s whereabouts? We’ve only spoken a handful of times.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: But if it puts your mind at ease,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yes, he was at Jane’s when I stopped by to wish her a happy birthday. Alive and breathing and everything.</span> </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="rose">TT: I will take a rain check on talking about the untimely death of our birthgiver. Don’t you worry, I will get back to you, if only because you mentioned it right off the bat with no prodding whatsoever. But there are more pressing matters at hand.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Although I must tell you, I would resent you referring to one of my fondest friends as *dicks*, Dirk.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: That said, if you’d like to talk about some specific experience re: recent happenings within that theme I am, shall we say in Strider lingo, down with it.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: We will try to keep it tasteful in honoring the potential wishes and sensitivities of persons not present.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: But it is high time I delicately and ladylike put my foot down to get some bloody information about your latest shenanigans. With details, please and thank you.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Let me grab my fountain pen and unnecessarily ornate notepad. Only the best for such an occasion.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Alright, whenever you’re ready. But now.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Or as you might say more casually in the States:</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Time to dish the dirt hardcore. Bro.</span>
</p><p>Oh <em> hell </em>no. Dirk rests his elbow on the table and sinks his face on his hand. Why are his sisters so fucking smart, goddammit.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Having witnessed your writing, I can assure you that your attempts at slang are more disturbing than the matter you’re inquiring about.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Which takes me to next point in your brief ramble,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I hadn’t known you to be of the gossiping kind, sister.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Well, at least not as up-front as this. What’s inspired you this time?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Is it juicier because it’s about your twin brother’s sex life?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Dirk pinches the bridge of his nose before toggling back to Dave. He’s not much better off on this end, apparently.</p><p> </p><p><span class="dave">TG: uh ok</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i guess we can approach the topic of why you bitched vehemently at me bout it when you did know his whereabouts all along and actually talked to him some other time</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: thats weird but ok</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: cause i got other shit on my mind</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: and also idgaff</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: whatever<br/>
</span> <span class="dave">TG: first of all did jane get my message but hopefully not the full one and also did egbert give her a dirty hi5 from me</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: it was a regular hi5 when i started talking but it kept evolving and then i forgot to retcon the x rated quality of it</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: thank god shes a good sport fuck me</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: um nm ok look</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: just tell me how alive and breathing he was</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i mean you talked to him saw him<br/>
TG: howd he look whatd he do what was he like with you</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: hes been going thru some shit i dont think anyone got to know the half of it except maybe jane so</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i dunno im kinda rattly about that whole biz cause that got for real freaky for a minute</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: did he get freaky with ya</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i mean like ghostly dead eyed gonna jump off a cliff freaky not sex freaky tho itd be one helluvan accomplishment to get with that tight no homo ass<br/>
TG: if anyone can do it its a strider most def</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: turning chronically straight dudes into bottom bitches left and right just with our aura of coolness</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: prolly some lesbians too<br/>
</span> <span class="dave">TG: hey btw i meant to ask um</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: nm lets drop the jane topic forever shits toxic to my brain</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: anyway i couldnt blame ya for accepting the tap the egbert ass challenge cause goddamn crockerberts but dont hold your breath dude</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: wow this train of thought derailed caught on fire exploded and threw itself off a cliff in pain ok um</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: you egbert bday what transpired talk to me baby</span></p><p>His eyes gloss over at <em> chronically straight dudes </em> and the man has an overwhelming sadistic urge to tell him just <em> how much </em> of a bottom bitch his best friend is.</p><p>As a courteous guy and not a fucking sociopath, however, he mercifully refrains.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Yes, she got your message, with all the added implications. But no, there were no filthy high-fives being distributed around at the time.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Nor any regular ones either, for that matter. Sorry, bro.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I still think the feelings managed to come through, though. She sent her thanks.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: As for Egbert,</span>
</p><p>The blond’s fingers hover over the keyboard. How much is he willing to let on without exposing them?</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: We didn’t throw down at sight, firstly.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Since he and Jane have their birthday on the same date, they were celebrating it at the time and we ended up having something to eat together.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: There were no explicitly ‘freaky’ signs in his behavior. He seems to be doing fine, and he’s staying at Jane’s for the moment, it seems.</span>
</p><p>There’s already another ping from Rose, meaning he should end this subject with at least <em> one </em>sibling at once.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: In any case, you seem to have a lot to say about Egbert, sexuality-wise.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Have you been having wet dreams about your friends, baby bro?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I could put in a good word for you, since now I’ve talked to John about five times and that apparently qualifies us as official friendly acquaintances.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Dirk switches back to Rose’s chat window.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span class="rose">TT: Naturally, the answer to your question is yes. Of course the twin sex life factor makes it all the more titillating. We can circle back to this perfectly serviceable topic at a later date, as well.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: That said, I sincerely apologize for not taking you through countless overwritten labyrinthine tangents on this occasion. I promise not to make it a habit, lest we fall into familial stereotypes such as direct and forthright communication.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I only tend to be upfront as long as it involves a lovely person and long-time friend that tends to exist in a permanent limbo-like strata of acceptance for his sexual orientation.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Or Schrödinger’s heterosexuality, if you prefer that analogy. I do like it. We’re keeping it.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Also: how dare I ask? He’s my ex, Dirk. Warn a bitch first. Tsk tsk.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Ridiculously funny jokes aside, I care for him and you know this. And at this point I need something more than endless deflections and vagueries.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Because I know how fragile he can be, Dirk, is why.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: So tell me. Please.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Is the heterosexuality in the box alive or dead?</span>
</p><p>There’s definitely a migraine in Dirk’s near future. <em> Fuck</em>.</p><p>Dirk clicks his tongue and huffs out, cracking his wrist before straightening himself to reply.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Yeah, god forbid we just get to the point. It’s unheard of in our family.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Though some of us seem to make it a personal challenge sometimes.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Fine, I’ll be the better man and shed *some* layers of pleasantries here.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Which is a misleading term, by the way.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Rose, if John is your close friend, are you sure *I* am the person you should be questioning about that?</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Never mind being reserved, I’m just showing some common decency here.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Unless you have already spoken to him and you’re just testing me. In which case, I suggest you apply your time elsewhere.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Which is a polite way to tell you to fuck off, if you catch my drift.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>After sending the last message, Dirk instantly regrets it. He breathes out through gritted teeth and rests his head on the desk for a few moments before turning to Dave. Jesus Christ, he’s blowing this.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dave">TG: k i look forward to her being uncomfortable round me next time i see her</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: that said</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: dude lmao what</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: thats like 10x the amount of info i thought you were gonna give me u ok</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: have you really been gettin chummy with him like roxys been weirdly droppin hints about</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: and by that i mean she saw you talkin to each other like once</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: scandalous</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: oh god you werent riding his ass about rose right</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: theyre bffs let it go dude</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: also heads up roxy might be into him not sure but dont freak out if she asks him out oslt</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: srsly whats with the bitches in this family all thirsting for egbert meat</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: k before you punch me into next week i didnt mean that</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: the bitches part not the perennial lust for egbert part</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: speaking of this bitch tho</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: wait no wtf man ew hes my bff since kids and also has a dick which yknow dealbreaker</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: im glad hes fine and all thats a load offa my mind honest but<br/>
TG: do you know what i also am</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: dirk</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: flabbergasted</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: you guys got down to a bday party and i wasnt even invited what the actual heck dirktanian</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: no wonder you know so fuckin much youve had more contact with the guy this fucking month than ive had in the last year prolly</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: but w/e get up to your top secret crockerbert shenanigans w/o me its not like ive been sick with worry about the guy or anything</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: it hurts bro ngl</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: “Dirktanian” sounds like the gentilic for a city named after me. It would undoubtedly be the best fucking place in existence.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yes, I’ve been in touch with Roxy recently as well. She’s told me about her interest in Egbert and reprimanded me for the exact same assumption you just made about me “riding his ass”.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: What has *not* transpired is a devious scheme to have a Dave-less Crocker-Egbert birthday party.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: They were going to keep it between themselves, since Jane has been pretty busy as of late. I just happened to be there at the time and they likely thought it would be rude not to invite me to eat.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Don’t get your panties in a twist. You’re still my favorite brother, and you’re still his second or third best friend.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Probably.</span>
</p><p>Dirk chews on his lower lip.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Joking aside, Dave,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Haven’t you two spoken lately? I thought you two talked all the time.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I remember answering the door for you and finding the guy waiting outside our house frequently back then.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="rose">TT: …</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Hm. Fair enough. Apparently.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: On a completely unrelated note, how are those anger issues you have definitely dealt with and solved going, dear brother?</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: How silly of me, of course they’re doing wonderful. Thriving, I would say. But even *that* I’m willing to put on the back burner for the moment.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Here’s what you should know, Dirk. Plain and simple, and I will never forgive you for making me go that route.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: First: I am considerably worried about John, to reiterate. I have no reason to believe he’s still in any physical danger, but I would very much welcome some reassurance from some kind soul that’s had recent extended contact with him, since he can be elusive as trying to catch a gust of wind in your fist. I will even forgo the need for details if that’s what you ask of me. And I shall never, ever forgive you for making me plead for this. Ever.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Second: has it crossed your mind I could possibly be concerned about you as well? Don’t bother answering that one, I also absolve you from that dreaded answer. Some insights into our current state of personal affairs once a year is a more than reasonable tradition. Dare I say necessary? No, I suppose I dare not, lest we indulge in the deadly sin of getting too familiar with each other.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I need to know how you are, Dirk. Every now and then will suffice. I also need to know how John is at the moment, and since you’re both being incredibly recalcitrant about telling me anything of importance, while spending, quote the grapevine, a mysteriously large amount of time together, it seems I simply must grovel to the one that’s less likely to be able to ignore my inquiries forever. Also apparently. I wouldn’t really place a large bet on it.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Being allergic to talking to your twin sister about *real things* is not mandatory, I inform you.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: There’s also nothing wrong with having some sort of feelings of intangible intensity and quantity for someone, Dirk. Let’s just leave it that vague so nothing catches fire.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: And now that I’m done huffing and puffing into my morning Earl Grey, I await your gracious magnanimity that you might spare a single piece of actual insight or information, praise be.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: *Thank you*.</span>
</p><p>For the first time in weeks, Dirk feels like punching something. Maybe himself. He loves his family to death, but god fucking <em> dammit </em>his siblings can be nosy regarding his own life.</p><p>Out of all of them, why do they worry about <em> him</em>?</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: See, this is the first time in our current conversation in which you asked *how he is* instead of details about *us*, so don’t go down that route.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Look, bottom line is: John’s fine. I’m fine. No cause for concern.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: We’ve talked things out, and we’re keeping a low profile, one which we would very much like to maintain.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Prying and prodding don’t help matters much here, Rose.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I know that’s one of the intersecting interests you have with your vampire girlfriend, but there’s not much more to it than that.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: And, well, since you spoke of tradition,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: How is she?</span>
</p><p>The familiar twinge of guilt pricks at his ribcage. Dirk rubs his temples. <em> Fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Alright, now to the slightly less painful and way more confusing round of navigating through a linguistic labyrinth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dave">TG: dude really is your sarcasm radar broken cause this is what we do basically</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: is it national sincerity day goddammit i wrote it on my calendar</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: it was supposed to warn me but i guess in the spirit of the holiday it decided to express itself and declare the event idiotic of its own accord</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: its a catch 22 i know but i have an irony resistant calendar or it would explode in my mere presence its science</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: ok nm i lost grasp of that one long ago lets rewind fwoop</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: anyway im not pissed its just weird youve been hanging with him more than me</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: but no dude are you kidding me we barely knew he was killing himself with vodka or whatever</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: heres the thing about egbert</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: hes gonna fucking slip thru your fingers if he wants to</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: and half the time when he doesnt mean to</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: avoidant little fuck that one sometimes</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: wow we shouldnt say shit like that out loud thats how you get cursed for all eternity by the gods</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: irony is a cold heartless bitch dirk you know this i know this</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: tldr if theres something he dont wanna talk about hes not gonna talk about it til you yank it out of him with a corkscrew</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: you can probably relate to that i bet heh<br/>
TG: fuck maybe you would be the best of friends after all its a weird thought but hey</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: were cool and all this is just been sorta recently but i guess that explains the downward spiral<br/>
TG: or the downward spiral explains that im not sure how this shit works cause i got exceptional mental health</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: anyway im not surprised he managed to avoid the fuck out of all of us for a while fucking slippery bastard</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i hope he talked to someone at least even if not us i dunno</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: whatever im just glad hes fine i guess</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: well catch up later and ill pull his stupid little ears 21 times and take him clubbin and womanizing</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: also make him buy me drinks legally cause 21 or w/e and basically get wasted and into a bunch of mischief<br/>
TG: hell fucking yes shitfaced troublemaking bonding thats how real adults do it right</span>
</p><p>…</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span class="pesterlog">TG: hes gonna fucking slip thru your fingers if he wants to</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Well that’s reassuring.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Sounds exciting. I’m sure you two will have a blast.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: And my radar isn’t broken, there’s merely some interference. My twin sister has chosen this exact moment to tear into me as well.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Insert here morally ambiguous joke about being fucked from both sides.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Anyway,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Maybe you should wait for him to come to you, then.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Since you two are tight bros, he’ll tell you eventually if it’s important, right? It’s classic brotiquette, c’mon.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I wouldn’t worry too much about it.</span>
</p><p>He absolutely would.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: …But if you ever need me to drive you to his place or something, you know you can ask me, right?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="rose">TT: *SIGH*</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Wouldn’t you know it, you two are the only ones capable of frustrating me enough to compel me to use exaggerated textual bouts of pretend emotionality. In a list of people that includes Dave.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: That should definitely earn you both an achievement spotlight on this year’s Christmas letter. Congratulations.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I do take solace in your incredibly abstract implication of “we talked it out”. I suppose.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I only ever want you to be safe and happy. Both of you. And that’s my sincerity quota for the year being reached.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: …</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: But know that I am here if you need to discuss or vent. Relationships of any kind are stressful. You don’t have to weather them alone.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: That said, I acquiesce for the time being. At least until I get ahold of your paramour and extract every single itemized aspect of every interaction you’ve had with a richness of details from him. Wink.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: On the subject of *my* dalliances, well.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Kanaya is-</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: …</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Intense, and wonderful, and alien.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I am… enthusiastic. And at the same time, it’s complicated.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: I hope you’re enthusiastic and it’s complicated, Dirk. It’s an excellent combination for our personality types.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: And, Dirk.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Let this not serve this as precedent to anything I’ll ever say again. However. Here it comes.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: …he’s a sweetheart. Treat him well. And let him do likewise.</span><br/>
<span class="rose">TT: Good luck, dear.</span>
</p><p>Feeling about five point three years older, Dirk glances up at Rose’s incoming string of messages on his computer screen.</p><p>As they come, however, he releases a bit of the tension building in his shoulders and swallows, looking away for a minute to process the text.</p><p>Safe and happy.</p><p>Happiness is one of those overly abstract, subjective words that Dirk avoids thinking about. When he considers it and asks himself if he’s happy, he comes to the conclusion that he’s satisfied with his life. He’s pleased when a prototype works perfectly on the first try, he’s relaxed when he’s at home watching some ridiculous movie that he’ll get to bash on later with Dave, he’s entertained and challenged when he and Rose bounce theories off of each other, he’s amused when he gets to play videogames with Roxy while eating junk food.</p><p>And, as of late, he has been intrigued by John Egbert.</p><p>So, yeah, he has a good life, but ‘happy’ just doesn’t seem… applicable to him. When he looks in the mirror and sees the vast fabric of scarred tissue on his body, when he wakes up from vivid nightmares, when he finds old documents, he’s reminded of what he needs to be. ‘Happy’ is not included in that set of requirements.</p><p>It’s fine. Not every hole needs to be filled, nor mended.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, if our history of knowing each other is anything to go by.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: She sounds delightful, much like yourself.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: And I’m only being about 10% sarcastic this time.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: As for your dear friend,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: …</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I’ll be careful, but he’s not made of glass, you know.</span>
</p><p>Dirk drums his fingers on the desk.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: In any case, don’t worry about us.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: However, I will indeed suggest you refer to him for spicy details, as I refuse to talk to you about this.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: For several reasons.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Good luck for you too, by the way.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Please take care, Rose.</span>
</p><p>He hesitates over the keys.</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I miss you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has ceased messaging tentacleTherapist --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He’ll never live that down. Fuck, whatever.</p><p>Alright, now to his other nagging beloved relative.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dave">TG: sorry to contribute to your sibling sex sandwich then dude</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: yum sex sandwich delish with mayo and relish</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: wait am i the meat</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: the incestuous twins +1 sex party sandwich meat wow my life has peaked</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: that should be objectively grosser to me btw i think im hella hungry</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: maybe ill make it vegan in my head its a tofu tempeh and soy sauce sandwich that should do it barf</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: k what were we talking bout before this got weirdly sexual which also what else is new</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: right egbert</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: john</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: we should totally visit you could hang with us sometime man</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i rag on him a lot cause its what we do cause how else do you even friendship but</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: hes a great guy i really do think youd like him if you manage to get past the annoying brattiness and craptastic mainstream references<br/>
TG: ok nm forget i said that</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: goddamn stupid dork</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: i</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: love him</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG:</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: never gets old lmao</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: why do i miss him<br/>
TG: ill hhu soon and you too its been a while since weve hung together man</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: get it</span><br/>
<span class="dave">TG: please dont answer that</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Well, lil’ bro,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Since you seem to be having a moment with yourself over there, I think I’m going to retire to my previously engaged activities.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Yeah, hanging out with a guy that just barely stopped getting on my nerves recently seems like a nice Saturday afternoon plan.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Man, we should go on a picnic, eat some homemade sandwiches.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Pretty domestic shit.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Triple date ideas aside, I’ll call you up soon so we can have a rematch on that Pro Skater round from last time.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: It’s getting a little embarrassing for you, dude.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: Anyway, take care, drink some water that’s not mixed in with sugar sometime, message Rose in case you haven’t in a while.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: I think that’s all on the big brother list. Weird, I’m sure there was a “don’t do drugs” somewhere.</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: See ya, dog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has ceased messaging turntechGodhead --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has begun messaging turntechGodhead --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Also, Dave,</span><br/>
<span class="dirk">TT: That’s gay, bro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- timaeusTestified has ceased messaging turntechGodhead --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Dirk closes the chat with the hint of a smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, somewhere in the same city, not too far from there…</p><p> </p><p>It’s a busy week ahead, there’s so much to do, but at least John’s feeling productive, distracted, and... hopeful.</p><p>It’s been a good week.</p><p>Lease was signed, his random crap retrieved from Jane’s, everything's <em>sorta kinda</em> started to get packed up at his dad’s. John's harassing an unruly cardboard box that won’t close proper at the moment in the living room, as a matter of fact. God, it feels like an eternity since he was last here. Last time…</p><p>Better not dwell on it. </p><p>…but at least Dirk was here to check on him.</p><p>Sort of.</p><p><em>Not </em>dwell.</p><p>He should keep some harlequins, as a memory. Maybe. Locked away where they can’t hurt anyone?</p><p>Nah, the new place is little. Off with their heads. Which is a dramatic way to say they’re going into storage.</p><p> </p><p>John leans back up and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, oof. He should really exercise, sometime. For the first time ever. Well, unless you count- no you don’t, nevermind. </p><p>He’s about to skulk to the kitchen for a lemonade when he remembers they already took his kitchen appliances. Should probably have thought about some sort of backup for the couple days he’s gonna be in-between homes, but whatever. He just noticed his phone’s blinking like crazy anyways, and so he picks it up in a rush.</p><p>...</p><p>…oh boy. Check-ins.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tipsyGnostalgic has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="roxy">TG: yooooooooooooooooo eggs my dude</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: dawg</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: ok no that sounds 2 much liek dave nvm</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *like</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: anyway howre u holdin up man</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: whadya do 4 ur birthday?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: did ur sister do another baking mosntrosity again</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *montrosity</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *monstrosity wow finally</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: the stuff she makes is deeleesh</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: dirk never eats his bday cake whole so me n dave flock at his house 2 raid his fridge</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: as much as our respect schedules allow that is</span>
</p><p>Roxy's usual bubbly chatter. Awesome. He's been meaning to check on her, too.</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: hey rox! :B what’s up?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i’m good!! busy but good.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: don’t be ridiculous, you sound nothing like dave!!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: he’s more like:</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: yo yo yo where all my bitches at</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: hos be droolin for some choice ass strider butt</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: shit be cray cray like snoop dog droppin flames</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: did i sound like him? ehehehehe.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: we did nothing much, had dinner and. low key hung out!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i cooked and, yeah jane made a giant chocolate cake, of fucking course.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: it *was* pretty deeleesh, even though we were so stuffed and it was so heavy we almost barfed eating it for dessert.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ehehehehe, yeah, he told us! hey you can raid my fridge too, there’s still leftovers, god. well jane’s fridge, i don’t really have a fridge right now.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: oh uh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: dirk was around too i guess! for jane’s birthday.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: and for my birthday. it’s the same birthday. that was stupid.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: anyway he told us about his fridge.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: oh shit i fucking forgot!!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ummm i might have accidentally told him you used to smoke!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: and by 'might have' i mean i totally did. sorry!!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: he caught me smoking and i panicked. for some goddamn reason?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: wow that makes it sound like he’s my dad or something.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ok shit no, creepy. wow.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i’m gonna stop talking now.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …how r u??</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Now Jane. Wow,<em> oook.</em> The most troubling part is, John feels twin needs to run in the other direction and throw his phone in a lake, and also surprisingly inclined to sit down and gossip with her forever. What even in the <em>hell.</em> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has begun messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Good evening, Johnny boy! :B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I sincerely hope you don’t suppose you’ll get rid of me so fast, even if you are no longer staying here.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: After all, you still haven’t elaborated on the “It’s complicated” you provided me when prompted that evening.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I won’t press, but I would like to know whether some Strider ear-pulling should be in order. ;B</span>
</p><p>Welp. He guesses <em> talking to his sister about BOYS  </em>is a thing, now.</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: uuuuhhhh,</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: it’s still complicated?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: but um. like a better kind of complicated.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i dunno. like. good complicated, instead of just. shitty.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: anyway, it’s all good i think. maybe. i mean yeah!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: we talked a bit and had a nice time. um,</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: sorry about that by the way. eesh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: anyway don’t pull his ear, please. he was good to me.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: well, um. more like,</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: it was like bumpy but eventually good. so it’s all like. ultimately good.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ugh i’m typing 'like' a lot, sorry. still tender in places, i guess.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: metaphorically speaking!!!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: augh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: hey janey, do you miss me? :B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i kinda miss you. kinda!!!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ok i do.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: housewarming party soon, no bailing!</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="roxy">TG: LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: dude its uncanny wtf</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: i wouldnt be albe to tell u apart from him</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: ;D</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *able</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: tho that doesnt absolve u from ratting me out</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: &gt;:/</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: jk its ok that was never the biggest problem anyway</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: man when r u gonna stop shittin ur pants around dirk</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: dude looks a fright but hes mostly hamless if u arent an asshole</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *harmless</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: …</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: ok nvm u might be in danger after all</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: x3</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: jkjk</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: im doin fine</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: tho uni is tearing me a new one and fucking me thru it</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: but anyways</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: busy u say?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: busy with woooot?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: or with whom idk</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: i mean it sure sounds like you got busy in your bday</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *wonk*</span>
</p><p>A (buck-toothed) smile paints on his face reading Roxy. Ugh, she really is a great ally, and... every time someone says Dirk is sweet, there's a warmth in his dumb smitten stomach. </p><p>But at the same time, a memory sends a pang of… potential? guilt to his gut.</p><p>Dammit. He’s so stupid.</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: it’s ok, i’m just busy moving to a new apartment! save the date for a housewarming rager.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: but speaking of hamless. hehehehehe!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: oh god ok, let’s pretend i never almost started that joke, ok? ok, good decision, yes. he mustn’t know.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: look i’m not afraid of him, he’s just. we-</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: tense?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: that wasn’t a sentence was it. we’ve just, it's been, uh</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: complicatedly.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: augh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: look this is weird, because you’re his sister! and. also.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: cause you kinda almost. asked me out?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: oh shit i’m not blaming you for me being awkward or anything!! what i mean is, um.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: are we ok? or?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i mean i know we’re ok, it’s just. i hope it’s not weird after that, and.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: honestly i have no idea if you want to actually hear about what’s going on. with us?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: you know, i’m gonna just stop pretending you can’t tell exactly what’s transpiring, and playing coy with you and rose.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: how the hell do you even do that?? no nevermind, whatever. point is...</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to! like, i need to know i’m not gonna make you uncomfortable? or hurt you?? oh god.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: not like i think you have a crush on me or anything dumb like that, but you know. you can still think me dating your brother is creepy.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: and um. i don’t mean like *date date* or nothing. it’s more like.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ...i don’t know what it is. but it’s something, vague and sort of down low but it’s there. so.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: um. yeah. that’s a thing, i guess. whatever that *thing* is.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: … </span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: oof.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: any advice? :(</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Tapping his foot nervously over a pile of still-unused flat boxes, he switches back to his sister while waiting for Roxy to reply. Augh, whiplash, what the hell. He exhales a long, tense bout of air as he taps her tab.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Oh my. ;B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I do miss you, dear. In the few days you stayed here, I’ve grown accustomed to your constant presence, to the point of finding my own home too vacant at times.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I guess I’ll just have to pester you more frequently to make up for it, hoho.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: It’s good to hear your status has improved… from what I gather, that’s it, correct?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I think you two are a good match, even if a little unexpected.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: But alas, here I go, assuming again. I’ll tone down the detective work, I promise. :B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I’ll make sure to bake something special for your housewarming. For now, though, how is the moving coming along?</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: duh, we’ll have to have more dinner parties. maybe on a day when you’ve slept more than four hours.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …that sucks. now i almost wanna go back. except i’m kinda jazzed to settle into my own new place, so, that’s why *almost*. but we’ll visit!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i don’t like the idea of you feeling lonely or anything. that’s how shit starts, trust me jane.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i mean, i know it’s not like that with you, because you’re always working enthusiastically, and doing shit you feel happy with, and. strong.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: but still. i don’t know.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …what if i find you a boyfriend, janey? ehehehehe.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: that’s it, i’ve decided. i’m finding you a boyfriend.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i’ll put up an ad: must be intelligent, ambitious, and enjoy finer things in life, by which i mean all baking products available to mankind. diabetics abstain. also can’t be one of those jerks that don’t shower regularly.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: or maybe i’ll just ask random guys at the park. wait, no.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: we’ll ask dirk to help. he can be the muscle, and the shit-your-pants scary face that just screams 'you’re gonna die a horrible death if your hurt my sister, douche'.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: sounds like a good way to find someone. plus they’d have to get used to him anyway, since he’s your bff. it’s not that hard after all.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: right. on that front.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: yeah, it’s. it’s good. i’m happy?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: thank you, jane. i mean it.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: and let’s not bother pretending you had nothing to do with it, cause i know you must have talked to him something fierce the other night, and...<br/>EB: he was. really receptive. eventually.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: but it ended up really nice. and i appreciate it so much.</span>
</p><p>A little flustered, John looks around as a quick distraction.</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: the move is… goddamn slow. how can there be so much shit in a house where a family has lived for 20 years??</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: nevermind. but yeah this is gonna take like 50 times longer than i thought. but it’s ok. i got no job or school to be at.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: is there anything you’d like to… keep as a memory?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: from dad’s place.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="roxy">TG: oh ure getting out of ur dads house???</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: damn thats big dude</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: fuck yeah were gonna rock that mf new home so hard ull have 2 move again ;D</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: if u need ayn help hmu btw</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *any</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: and well ngl bert i was bummed bc ure a cute guy but yknow</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: it didnt take a stroke of genius to see u had something going on</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: so i sorta had an idea what ur answer would be</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: its not rocket science man weve known each other for a bit ;)</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: dw were cool</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: im not gonna hassle u for details or anything</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: u should exepct that from rose if i know her at all but since shes ur ex i wouldnt be too worried ab that lmao</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *expect</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: im just curious bc im ur friend</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: …and dirkies sister i guess</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: if u guys are happy then thats that nothing i can do bout it</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: unless u guys arent exclusive ;)</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: jkjk dont piss ur pants</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: but man ure asking me advice ab soemthng ive only seen happen once to him</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: and as u must know it didnt end well</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *something</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: d is a guarded punk ass dude</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: if he knows something can go wrong he takes every possible measure to make sure shit goes red and rosy</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: no one knows much ab how his reasoning works but</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: he comes thru eventually</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: lmao ok that wasnt wildly helpful</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: i guess what i mean is</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: good luck bro</span>
</p><p>The blushing brunette (he’s still not used to being called cute or sexy) snorts at Roxy’s words, which always remind John of Dave’s but dipped in strawberry sugar. But with a little spice, cause wording.</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: i think it wasn’t rocket science for anyone but me. and btw thank you again for. holding my hand a bit through it i guess.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: sorry my proclivities pushed me out of your arms and into your brothers or whatever. ehehehehehe.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ok no, that was stupid amounts of dramatic. you know what i mean.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: also it started before that night at the party anyway.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: uh,</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ok it doesn’t matter when and where, does it.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i mean HOW. how.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: augh, just. thanks for being so understanding and cool about everything. i owe you like an electric guitar shaped like a cat in pink-glitter colors. that sounds like something you might rock the hell out of.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: hey you know i just offered janey to help in her quest for a boyfriend. you want in? ehehehehe.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: shit that might be a good new job for me. the john egbert dating agency. there’s a picture of me winking and shooting a finger gun on the front of the pamphlets, distributed among the classiest single men hotspots in town.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …oh god, i should be careful or i’ll end up rounding up a bunch of gay guys accidentally.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: it’s taking my brain some time to adjust to dude mode. dudes mode. liking dudes mode, that is. fuck, see what i mean.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: it’s not like i’m non-gay experienced to begin with, either.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: </span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …once only, huh.</span>
</p><p>What <em> did </em> happen with Jake? He’s heard some stories through the family grapevine, but they were mostly from Jade, who hates Dirk <em> with a burning passion</em>. Uh. Oh shit? Also, from Dave, who mostly relayed a bunch of zigzagging anecdotes culminating into some sort of blue temptress taking Jake away. What’s with that guy’s weird obsession with blue? Anyway, knowing Dirk and his cousin, it’s hard not to imagine it being Jake’s fumbling fault, but he should probably reserve his opinion for now.</p><p>…maybe he should ask Dirk. Unless that’s an incredibly bad idea at this point in time? John chews on his thumb anxiously. Hey, at least he might get to know what kind of shit to stay away from, if he had the details?</p><p>…</p><p>No. Dirk will tell him when, if he wants to.</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: it’s ok. you don’t have to tell me he’s actually a really good person with a soft center, heheh. i hope the crunchy shell doesn’t keep regenerating too fast though.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: ok that was weird. i’m gonna stop telling you weird shit and flustering now. gotta leave some mind space to prep the new place for this raging bash we’re throwing. and also for packing up a billion baking recipe books.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i’ll… check on rose soon, too. oh, and dave. but let’s get together and have a drink or something ok? or um, a milkshake.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: talk to you soon? oh and make those credits your bitch.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: *i believe in you.* ehehehehe!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: later rox. &lt;3</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="roxy">TG: eggs u do know that sounds sketchy af right</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: but fine ill take the shocking pink colored cat shaped intsrument as a bribe yes thank u very much</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *instrument goddam</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: besides</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: i got u dude i told u</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: even if were not mackin on each other u can count on me for stuff</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: including finding janey a bf which sounds like a herculean task tbh</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: ill be your societ partner in your dating business tho</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *society</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: dw ill deal with the mob of queens flocking at your door ;)</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: also</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: john r u srsly worried about flustering *me*???</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: did u forget who im surrounded by?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: ure the one who should watch ur back &gt;;)</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: oops that sounded more ominous than intended</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: heheheh</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: anyway</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: hell yeah man lets go out for a bite 2 eat sometime</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: or idk order sometjng n play some games at ur new house mayhaps</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *something</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: as soon as shits settled down i mean because ive been having my ass handed to me</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: alright dude ill leave u to go apck ur weird human sized creepy dolls and girthy tomes</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: *pack</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: stay fresh j-cash</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="roxy">TG: peace ;*</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- tipsyGnostalgic has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>And now to the other palpitation-inducing conversation. It’s not like they’re even pestering him so bad or anything, it’s sweet sisterly (and sisterly-adjacent) support, for fucks sake. Just. It’s.</p><p>A lot of fucking emotions have happened in the last week or so, ok? Can’t he just get angry at uncooperative boxes for a day? Geez.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Youngsters these days… ;B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: It’s quite alright though, dear. I have work to keep me busy, and I keep in touch with the people I care about.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Such as my baby brother with whom I am currently checking in!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I suppose going out with someone would be nice, but I simply cannot find the time to look for a fair gent currently.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I appreciate the thought, however. Especially your idea about the trial test, hohoho!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: And I might transcribe that partner description to the letter should I ever join a dating website. :B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: No need to thank me, John. I also care about Dirk, and I know how… thick-headed he can be sometimes.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: It pays to give him a few reminders from time to time.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Oh! Yes, I assumed there would be quite the volume of content to pack.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Hm. Well, pops used to hang these posters of old school detectives and comedians, which at first I’d found terribly campy…</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: But they grew on me. Now, when I think back on my younger years and visualize our former house in my mind, they are always one of the first things that come to mind.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: If you could save those for me, I would appreciate it. :B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: What about you, dear?</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: what’s with you guys and pretending you’re 20 years older than your almost-same-age siblings?? and yeah i’m talking about dirk again.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: um. sorry i keep bringing him up all the time. it’s just.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i care, too.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: anyway of course i’ll save you the crusty old posters. and you know, as i make it through the house i’ll take a pic of everything you might be interested in, an inventory of random potentially cool shit, if you will. then we can fight over them (not bloody likely).</span>
</p><p>...</p><p>
  <span class="john">EB: you know… we still have one decision pending. the</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: you know.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: we haven’t nailed down</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: what to do with mom’s piano.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …it’s ok. we can think about it a bit. i guess. it’s not like this house is selling in the next five minutes. i hope.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: but yeah we should. talk about it.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: maybe so that it's not... augh. i dunno. it’s so big.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i’ll think about it, too.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: hey janey if i start john egbert’s wondertastic dating agency for lovely ladies and classy gents will you bankroll me? my only current clients are you an roxy. ehehehehe.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: well. i’ve had worse jobs.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: …</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i’m KIDDING ok?? :B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: it wasn’t the job that was bad. i was bad for it. or at least no better than completely terrible at it.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: it doesn’t matter now. i’ll figure it out.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i hope.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: accepting suggestions by the way, with the possibility of full-on brainstorming sessions. augh.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: it’ll be ok tho. for now i’ll go back to moving. which is severely behind schedule.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: i’m gonna get creeped out by harlequins and wonder if they’re cursing me every time i stuff them carelessly into a box.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: talk to you later? and hey let’s have lunch or something if you have time.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="john">EB: love you, janey. don’t work too hard!!</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="jane">GG: Well, we have to make the most of aging, don’t we, now. ;B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: But we’re just pulling your leg. Although I’m afraid you will always be my baby brother in my eyes.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: In any case, that would be lovely, dear. Seeing as it’s been a while since I have moved out, I no longer have as clear a mental map as I used to regarding the furniture and memorabilia in our old home.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Right, the piano… Such a beautiful appliance, it would be a shame to leave it to gather mold somewhere.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: If things come to worst and we have nowhere to keep it, I suppose we can rent a deposit slot for a while. We can discuss it over a cup of coffee one of these days, after the thick of moving is over. :B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Though lunch sounds spiffy too!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Silly boy. Could it be you miss being my secretary so much that you’re looking for a new post just to manage my personal calls again? Hohoho!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Rest easy, dear. Now I see you’re not meant for this line of work. I’m sorry I failed to see this earlier, and I hope you know I will support you in whichever path you decide to pursue.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: As long as you’re trying. :B</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I’ll ask some contacts about opportunities in the music industry. I suppose that’s what you are considering, yes?</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Rats, I’ve also got to go. Our chatter will have to wait.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Oh yes, good luck with the harlequins. Don’t forget not to turn your back on them, hohoho!</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: Take care, dear. I’ll talk to you later. Ring me if you need anything.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="jane">GG: I love you, too. :B</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="pesterlog">-- gutsyGumshoe has ceased messaging ectoBiologist --</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Contradicting his words immediately, John sits on the couch, phone still in hand, sighing exhausted. Emotionally. And kinda physically too.</p><p>That's <em>all it is,</em> ok. The way he stares at his stupid useless smartphone is not <em>longing</em>.</p><p>...it's not.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More chapters written, coming up soon! &lt;3</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464399">Video Games</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorologiumParadox/pseuds/HorologiumParadox">HorologiumParadox</a>
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